Sleep story · winter, still
Sleep story: a field under snow, before something difficult — for a racing mind
Everything muffled, everything white, and no tracks but yours.
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 light is flat and grey and does not cast shadows. There is a gate at the far end of the field, half buried and not going anywhere. Your hands are warm inside your gloves and cold at the wrists.
The sound of your own boots is the loudest thing for half a mile. Nothing in this field needs to be done today or tomorrow. A single crow crosses the field and lands on the fence, then thinks better of it.
Let your palms open if they were closed. Let your hands be completely still.
Feel your cheeks let go. Let your forehead go cool and smooth.
There are no footprints anywhere except the ones behind you. The farmhouse at the top of the hill has one window lit.
Feel one shoulder go heavy, then the other. Your fingers can stop doing anything at all.
If you're thinking about the next thing on your list, that list will still be there. Notice the moment you realise you've drifted. That moment is the whole skill.
Let your tongue sit heavy in your mouth. Feel the top of your head relax into the pillow.
Let the next part go past without you. Let the quiet be boring.
Let the breath be the only thing you are doing. Softer. Let it all get further away.
It works best in the hour before something difficult.
The room is dark, the day is finished, and nothing is required of you.
12 paragraphs, roughly 2 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for winter, still.
If this story does not settle you, try A field under snow — a slow story for the end of the day, if you are tired of apps — for an overtired night, A lake before dawn, when you are at home and cannot settle — for jet lag or Sleep story: a kitchen late at night, when your attention is scattered — for a restless night.