Sleep story: a bus at night, when you want to

The story, in full

Your ticket is on the seat beside you, already used. The bus stops and starts with a slow, heavy movement. There are four other people downstairs and nobody up here.

The lights inside are the dim blue kind that buses use at night. The heating comes through the floor and makes your feet warm. Outside, someone is walking a dog that does not want to be out.

Your chest can be still now. Your jaw can drop slightly. Let your teeth part.

Let the back of your neck lengthen out. Let the pillow take the whole weight of your head.

There is a long stretch of road ahead with nothing on it. You are on the top deck of the last bus, in the front seat, with the whole window to yourself.

Notice how much of you has already stopped moving. Let your breathing get slower without deciding to slow it.

Feel one shoulder go heavy, then the other. Now feel your whole body at once, lying here, being held up.

You do not have to get off for another twenty minutes. The driver takes the corners slowly, as if the bus were full.

Feel your wrists loosen. Let your feet get heavy first. Heavier than they need to be.

A streetlight passes across the ceiling every few seconds. The city goes past below you, shopfronts and bus stops and people waiting for other buses.

Let your lower back sink down into the mattress. Feel the top of your head relax into the pillow.

Outside, someone is walking a dog that does not want to be out. The driver takes the corners slowly, as if the bus were full.

Let everything you were holding today stay on the floor beside the bed. Notice the places where your body touches the bed, and let them be heavy.

The city goes past below you, shopfronts and bus stops and people waiting for other buses. A streetlight passes across the ceiling every few seconds.

Notice the difference between a thought and the space around it. Notice the moment you realise you've drifted. That moment is the whole skill.

Your ankles can go loose now. Feel the weight of the blanket on your legs.

Just the breath. Let the thoughts come and go without you getting up to answer.

Softer. Slower now. Let the breath be the only thing you are doing.

Slower. Follow the breath out, and let the next one arrive by itself. Stay.

Wanting to finish something is a better motivation than wanting to relax.

The room is dark, the day is finished, and nothing is required of you.

21 paragraphs, roughly 3 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for travel, anonymous.