Sleep story · rain, green
Sleep story: a garden in the rain, when you are doing this for the first time — 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
The rain on the roof of the awning is a lower sound than the rain on the leaves. Somewhere in the hedge, a bird is sitting it out. A snail is making its way along the bottom of the wall, going nowhere in particular.
Under the awning it is dry, and the sound is a steady, unhurried patter. There is a wooden bench that nobody has sat on for an hour. The earth smells the way it does after a long dry spell.
Let your breathing get slower without deciding to slow it. Let your tongue sit heavy in your mouth.
Notice how much of you has already stopped moving. Let your feet get heavy first. Heavier than they need to be.
The path has gone darker where it is wet, and there are two small puddles near the step. The watering can by the tap is full and nobody needs it.
Your eyelids can be too heavy to open, and that is fine. Notice your hips, wide and settled.
Feel the top of your head relax into the pillow. Feel the back of your knees soften into the bed.
Water runs off the gutter in a thin, continuous line. The rain has settled into the kind that will last all afternoon without getting heavier.
Let your thumbs rest where they landed. Let your forehead go cool and smooth.
The leaves in the border are dark and glossy and moving slightly. There is nothing to do about any of it, which is the good part.
Let the space between your eyebrows smooth out. Let your ribs stop working so hard.
There is nothing to do about any of it, which is the good part. A snail is making its way along the bottom of the wall, going nowhere in particular.
Let the pillow take the whole weight of your head. Feel one shoulder go heavy, then the other.
The rain on the roof of the awning is a lower sound than the rain on the leaves. Under the awning it is dry, and the sound is a steady, unhurried patter.
Notice how quickly your mind labels things: good, bad, boring, nice. Notice the tone of your own inner voice. Is it kind?
Feel your wrists loosen. Let the mattress take all of it.
Let the quiet be boring. You do not have to count them.
Let the room get slightly further away. Let it all get further away. Stay.
Softer. The words can start to blur now. Let your attention settle somewhere low, like your feet.
If this is your first go, stay with the plainest version of the instructions.
The room is dark, the day is finished, and nothing is required of you.
21 paragraphs, roughly 3 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for rain, green.
If this story does not settle you, try Sleep story: a caravan by the sea, on a day that started badly — for the hours after a late shift, A lake before dawn (a sleep story), when you want something simple — for the hours after a late shift or A field under snow — a slow story for the end of the day, if you are tired of apps — for waking too early.