Sleep story · rain, green

Sleep story: a garden in the rain, when the day has been loud — for a restless night

Steady rain on leaves, and a chair under an awning that stays dry.

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

Under the awning it is dry, and the sound is a steady, unhurried patter. There is nothing to do about any of it, which is the good part. The watering can by the tap is full and nobody needs it.

Somewhere in the hedge, a bird is sitting it out. The rain has settled into the kind that will last all afternoon without getting heavier. A snail is making its way along the bottom of the wall, going nowhere in particular.

Let your calves spread out and flatten. Let your shoulder blades spread out and drop.

Feel your belly rise and fall without any help from you. Let your breathing get slower without deciding to slow it.

The rain on the roof of the awning is a lower sound than the rain on the leaves. The path has gone darker where it is wet, and there are two small puddles near the step.

Let your upper arms fall wherever gravity puts them. Feel your heels sink a little into the mattress.

If you've lost track of where we were, you haven't lost anything important. If you're irritated, that's allowed. Irritation is just weather.

Let the pillow take the whole weight of your head. Feel the top of your head relax into the pillow.

Let the quiet be boring. Let it all get further away.

Just the weight. Stay. Leave it there.

For days that were loud from the moment they started.

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

12 paragraphs, roughly 2 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for rain, green.