Sleep story · rain, green
Sleep story: a garden in the rain, if you are fitting this around other people — for a night when you do not want to think
Steady rain on leaves, and a chair under an awning that stays dry.
Reading it yourself. Back to the audio version.
There is a wooden bench that nobody has sat on for an hour. The rain has settled into the kind that will last all afternoon without getting heavier. The earth smells the way it does after a long dry spell.
The watering can by the tap is full and nobody needs it. The leaves in the border are dark and glossy and moving slightly. Under the awning it is dry, and the sound is a steady, unhurried patter.
Let everything you were holding today stay on the floor beside the bed. Now feel your whole body at once, lying here, being held up.
Your fingers can stop doing anything at all. Let the back of your neck lengthen out.
The path has gone darker where it is wet, and there are two small puddles near the step. Water runs off the gutter in a thin, continuous line.
Feel the weight of your head on the pillow. Let your toes stop holding on to anything.
If you feel emotional, you don't have to explain it to anyone, including yourself. Notice any part of you that wants this to be over.
Let your forehead go cool and smooth. Let your forearms get heavy and warm.
Follow the breath out, and let the next one arrive by itself. Sleep.
Let your breathing do the rest. Let the thoughts come and go without you getting up to answer. You can stop listening properly.
It is designed to fit around other people’s schedules.
That is the end of the story. Sleep is the next part, and it does not need instructions.