Sleep story · rain, green
Sleep story: a garden in the rain, when the day has been loud — for waking too early
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.
Screen on or off — we suggest dimming it, or simply closing your eyes after the first paragraph.
The story, in full
Somewhere in the hedge, a bird is sitting it out. The earth smells the way it does after a long dry spell. Water runs off the gutter in a thin, continuous line.
A snail is making its way along the bottom of the wall, going nowhere in particular. 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 your thighs be as heavy as they want to be. Your jaw can drop slightly. Let your teeth part.
Let your calves spread out and flatten. Your elbows can stop being hinges for now.
There is nothing to do about any of it, which is the good part. The rain on the roof of the awning is a lower sound than the rain on the leaves.
Let the back of your neck lengthen out. Let your ribs stop working so hard.
Notice if your attention is in the future. Bring it back to the room. If you've lost track of where we were, you haven't lost anything important.
Feel the top of your head relax into the pillow. Your fingers can stop doing anything at all.
Nothing needs deciding tonight. Let the quiet be boring.
Almost nothing to do now. Let the dark be ordinary. You can stop listening properly.
For days that were loud from the moment they started.
There is nothing more to follow. Let the rest happen on its own.
12 paragraphs, roughly 2 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for rain, green.