Sleep story · sea, simple
Sleep story: a caravan by the sea, when nothing else has worked today — for jet lag
Thin walls, wind outside, and the sound of shingle about fifty metres away.
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
The wind pushes against the side of the caravan in long, slow gusts. The bed folds out of the seating area and takes up most of the floor. You can hear the shingle moving as the waves pull back.
The curtains are thin, and the moon makes a pale rectangle on the floor. A clock on the wall ticks with a slight rattle on every second. There is a gas ring, a kettle, and two cups, one of which is a different pattern.
Feel your heartbeat somewhere far away. Let your thighs be as heavy as they want to be.
Your eyelids can be too heavy to open, and that is fine. Feel the back of your knees soften into the bed.
The caravan rocks very slightly in the wind, which is more comforting than it sounds. The whole caravan smells of salt, gas and clean bedding.
Let the space between your eyebrows smooth out. Let your lower back sink down into the mattress.
Let your palms open if they were closed. Feel the top of your head relax into the pillow.
The sea is about fifty metres away, over a bank of shingle. The window over the sink has a small crack in the corner that has been there for years.
Your elbows can stop being hinges for now. Let your shoulder blades spread out and drop.
Everything you need is within two metres of where you are lying. There is a torch by the door in case you need to walk to the toilets in the night.
Feel your heels sink a little into the mattress. Let the mattress take all of it.
Everything you need is within two metres of where you are lying. A clock on the wall ticks with a slight rattle on every second.
Feel one shoulder go heavy, then the other. Your jaw can drop slightly. Let your teeth part.
The curtains are thin, and the moon makes a pale rectangle on the floor. The caravan rocks very slightly in the wind, which is more comforting than it sounds.
If you've lost track of where we were, you haven't lost anything important. If you're irritated, that's allowed. Irritation is just weather.
Notice your hips, wide and settled. Your ankles can go loose now.
Nothing here needs following closely. Stay.
Let the quiet be boring. Just the weight. Sleep.
Just the dark. Let the dark be ordinary. Let your breathing do the rest.
Nothing else has worked today. That is not a reason to skip this.
The room is dark, the day is finished, and nothing is required of you.
21 paragraphs, roughly 3 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for sea, simple.
If this story does not settle you, try A fire dying down, when the house is busy — for a restless night, A field under snow, when you cannot concentrate on anything else — for winding down or The house after everyone is asleep — a slow story for the end of the day, when you are short on time — for waking too early.