Sleep story · travel, anonymous
Sleep story: a bus at night, when you want to finish something — for a racing mind
Upper deck, front seat, a city going past that you do not have to join.
Lights off. Press begin and let the story read itself to you, at the pace of sleep.
Screen on or off — we suggest dimming it, or simply closing your eyes after the first paragraph.
The story, in full
A streetlight passes across the ceiling every few seconds. The bus stops and starts with a slow, heavy movement. The driver takes the corners slowly, as if the bus were full.
There is a long stretch of road ahead with nothing on it. The city goes past below you, shopfronts and bus stops and people waiting for other buses. The lights inside are the dim blue kind that buses use at night.
Let the space between your eyebrows smooth out. Your chest can be still now.
Now feel your whole body at once, lying here, being held up. Let the mattress take all of it.
There are four other people downstairs and nobody up here. You do not have to get off for another twenty minutes.
Let your toes stop holding on to anything. Feel the weight of the blanket on your legs.
Let your feet get heavy first. Heavier than they need to be. Your ankles can go loose now.
Outside, someone is walking a dog that does not want to be out. Your ticket is on the seat beside you, already used.
Let your ribs stop working so hard. Let the pillow take the whole weight of your head.
You are on the top deck of the last bus, in the front seat, with the whole window to yourself. The heating comes through the floor and makes your feet warm.
Notice how much of you has already stopped moving. Your jaw can drop slightly. Let your teeth part.
The city goes past below you, shopfronts and bus stops and people waiting for other buses. The driver takes the corners slowly, as if the bus were full.
Feel the weight of your head on the pillow. Feel your heels sink a little into the mattress.
There are four other people downstairs and nobody up here. There is a long stretch of road ahead with nothing on it.
If your mind is quiet, don't grab at it. Quiet comes and goes too. If a song is stuck in your head, let it play in the background.
Your eyelids can be too heavy to open, and that is fine. Let your forehead go cool and smooth.
Let the quiet be boring. The words can start to blur now.
Let your breathing do the rest. Almost nothing to do now. Just the breath.
Stay. Let the sound of this go soft at the edges. Follow the breath out, and let the next one arrive by itself.
Wanting to finish something is a better motivation than wanting to relax.
No more sentences. Just the weight of you in the bed.
21 paragraphs, roughly 3 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for travel, anonymous.
If this story does not settle you, try A library at closing time — a slow story for the end of the day, after a long day — for jet lag, A boat at anchor, when the weather has kept you inside — for a racing mind or A kitchen late at night — a slow story for the end of the day, when you are at home and cannot settle — for the hours after a late shift.