Sleep story: a caravan by the sea, when your attention is scattered — for a night when you do not want to think

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. The sea is about fifty metres away, over a bank of shingle.

Everything you need is within two metres of where you are lying. 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.

Feel your heartbeat somewhere far away. Let the back of your neck lengthen out.

Let your shoulder blades spread out and drop. Let your upper arms fall wherever gravity puts them.

The whole caravan smells of salt, gas and clean bedding. You can hear the shingle moving as the waves pull back.

Let the space between your eyebrows smooth out. Feel your wrists loosen.

Feel the back of your knees soften into the bed. Your ankles can go loose now.

There is a torch by the door in case you need to walk to the toilets in the night. A clock on the wall ticks with a slight rattle on every second.

Let your breathing get slower without deciding to slow it. Feel your heels sink a little into the mattress.

The window over the sink has a small crack in the corner that has been there for years. There is a gas ring, a kettle, and two cups, one of which is a different pattern.

Let everything you were holding today stay on the floor beside the bed. Let your forehead go cool and smooth.

Notice how quickly your mind labels things: good, bad, boring, nice. If you're bored, stay with the boredom for a moment. It's usually thinner than it looks.

Let your hands be completely still. Let your thighs be as heavy as they want to be.

Let the next part go past without you. Stay with the weight of your body.

Nothing here needs following closely. You do not have to count them. The words can start to blur now.

Let your breathing do the rest. Let the quiet be boring. Stay.

Scattered attention is the raw material, not an obstacle.

That is the end of the story. Sleep is the next part, and it does not need instructions.