Sleep story · travel, anonymous
Sleep story: a hotel room somewhere, before something difficult — for a night when you do not want to think
A room you did not choose, in a city you do not have to know.
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 room is on the fourth floor, and the window looks out onto a street with one lit shop. Your case is open on the luggage rack, half unpacked. The curtains are heavy and close properly, which is rarer than it should be.
There is a bottle of water on the bedside table with the cap already loosened. There is a small card on the desk with the breakfast times on it, which do not matter tonight. A tram goes past below, and you hear it before you see it.
Feel your cheeks let go. Feel your heels sink a little into the mattress.
Your ankles can go loose now. Notice the places where your body touches the bed, and let them be heavy.
The bed has been turned down, and the sheets are cool on the side you have not been lying on. The bathroom light is off, and the fan has finally stopped.
Let your shoulder blades spread out and drop. Let your lower back sink down into the mattress.
Feel the back of your knees soften into the bed. Let your upper arms fall wherever gravity puts them.
The carpet is the colour of weak coffee and absorbs every sound. The pillow is slightly too soft, and you fold it in half, which fixes it.
Notice anything you're holding onto from earlier today. Notice the difference between a thought and the space around it.
Let your forearms get heavy and warm. Let your feet get heavy first. Heavier than they need to be.
Stay. They will find their own way out.
Let your attention settle somewhere low, like your feet. Just the breath. Let the dark be ordinary.
It works best in the hour before something difficult.
Let this be the last thing you listen to.
14 paragraphs, roughly 2 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for travel, anonymous.
If this story does not settle you, try A boat at anchor — a slow story for the end of the day, when you are somewhere unfamiliar — for winding down, A boat at anchor, when you want something simple — for a night when you do not want to think or A lake before dawn, when the weather has kept you inside — for a night when you do not want to think.