Sleep story · winter, still
Sleep story: a field under snow, when you are cold and want to be warm — for a night when you do not want to think
Everything muffled, everything white, and no tracks but yours.
Reading it yourself. Back to the audio version.
There are no footprints anywhere except the ones behind you. The light is flat and grey and does not cast shadows. The sound of your own boots is the loudest thing for half a mile.
The air is so cold it feels dry, and your breath is visible for a long time. The snow came down all afternoon and has now stopped, leaving the field completely unmarked. Your hands are warm inside your gloves and cold at the wrists.
Feel your wrists loosen. Let your lower back sink down into the mattress.
Your fingers can stop doing anything at all. Let your ribs stop working so hard.
The farmhouse at the top of the hill has one window lit. A single crow crosses the field and lands on the fence, then thinks better of it.
Feel your cheeks let go. Let your upper arms fall wherever gravity puts them.
Your ankles can go loose now. Feel your heels sink a little into the mattress.
The fence posts are capped with snow and look shorter than they are. There is a gate at the far end of the field, half buried and not going anywhere.
Your eyelids can be too heavy to open, and that is fine. Let your breathing get slower without deciding to slow it.
Nothing in this field needs to be done today or tomorrow. The snow on the branches is holding, and every so often a small amount slides off.
Let the pillow take the whole weight of your head. Let your feet get heavy first. Heavier than they need to be.
If nothing much is happening, that's not a problem. Nothing much is often the point. Notice any urge to check something. You can wait two more minutes.
Let your tongue sit heavy in your mouth. Feel your belly rise and fall without any help from you.
Let the breath be the only thing you are doing. Leave it there.
Let the thoughts come and go without you getting up to answer. Nothing here needs following closely. Just the breath.
Softer. Follow the breath out, and let the next one arrive by itself. Almost nothing to do now.
Get a blanket first. Being cold defeats the point.
There is nothing more to follow. Let the rest happen on its own.