Sleep story: a caravan by the sea, when you are cold and want to be warm — for a racing mind

The story, in full

There is a torch by the door in case you need to walk to the toilets in the night. You can hear the shingle moving as the waves pull back. The whole caravan smells of salt, gas and clean bedding.

The bed folds out of the seating area and takes up most of the floor. The caravan rocks very slightly in the wind, which is more comforting than it sounds. The curtains are thin, and the moon makes a pale rectangle on the floor.

Your elbows can stop being hinges for now. Let your palms open if they were closed.

Your fingers can stop doing anything at all. Feel your cheeks let go.

The window over the sink has a small crack in the corner that has been there for years. A clock on the wall ticks with a slight rattle on every second.

Feel your heartbeat somewhere far away. Feel one shoulder go heavy, then the other.

Let everything you were holding today stay on the floor beside the bed. Let the space between your eyebrows smooth out.

There is a gas ring, a kettle, and two cups, one of which is a different pattern. The wind pushes against the side of the caravan in long, slow gusts.

If a worry shows up, name it quietly and let it sit beside you. If you're thinking about the next thing on your list, that list will still be there.

Feel the top of your head relax into the pillow. Let your shoulder blades spread out and drop.

Let each breath be a little smaller than the last. Let the room get slightly further away.

Sleep. You do not have to count them. The words can start to blur now.

Get a blanket first. Being cold defeats the point.

Let this be the last thing you listen to.

14 paragraphs, roughly 2 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for sea, simple.