Sleep story · warm, winter

Sleep story: a fire dying down, when you feel restless rather than tired — for jet lag

The last hour of a fire, when it stops being a fire and becomes warmth.

Lights off. Press begin and let the story read itself to you, at the pace of sleep.

Read it myself

Screen on or off — we suggest dimming it, or simply closing your eyes after the first paragraph.

The story, in full

The logs beside the fireplace are down to the last two. There is a smell of woodsmoke in the room that will still be there tomorrow. The dog is asleep on the rug, on the side nearest the heat.

There is a blanket over your legs that you did not consciously arrange. Somewhere in the house, a door closes and everything goes quiet again. The room has gone darker than you noticed, and the light is all low and orange.

Your chest can be still now. Feel the back of your knees soften into the bed.

Feel the weight of your head on the pillow. Let the space between your eyebrows smooth out.

The window is black, and the glass is cold if you touch it. The fire will be out in half an hour and nobody needs to watch it happen.

Let your forearms get heavy and warm. Let your toes stop holding on to anything.

Notice if you're being hard on yourself about any of this. If your mind is quiet, don't grab at it. Quiet comes and goes too.

Feel your wrists loosen. Feel your heartbeat somewhere far away.

Let it all get further away. Let each breath be a little smaller than the last.

Let the breath be the only thing you are doing. Slower. Let your attention settle somewhere low, like your feet.

Restless is different from tired, and it needs a different approach.

No more sentences. Just the weight of you in the bed.

12 paragraphs, roughly 2 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for warm, winter.