Sleep story · travel, anonymous
Sleep story: a hotel room somewhere, when you feel restless rather than tired — for jet lag
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
There is a bottle of water on the bedside table with the cap already loosened. Nobody in this city knows where you are, and that is restful. The carpet is the colour of weak coffee and absorbs every sound.
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. The pillow is slightly too soft, and you fold it in half, which fixes it.
Let the pillow take the whole weight of your head. Feel the weight of your head on the pillow.
Feel the top of your head relax into the pillow. Your jaw can drop slightly. Let your teeth part.
The room is on the fourth floor, and the window looks out onto a street with one lit shop. The curtains are heavy and close properly, which is rarer than it should be.
Let your forehead go cool and smooth. Let your shoulder blades spread out and drop.
Feel your heartbeat somewhere far away. Your fingers can stop doing anything at all.
The bed has been turned down, and the sheets are cool on the side you have not been lying on. Your case is open on the luggage rack, half unpacked.
Feel your wrists loosen. Let the space between your eyebrows smooth out.
The bathroom light is off, and the fan has finally stopped. The air conditioning makes a low sound that you will stop noticing within a minute.
Feel your belly rise and fall without any help from you. Let your toes stop holding on to anything.
There is a small card on the desk with the breakfast times on it, which do not matter tonight. There is a bottle of water on the bedside table with the cap already loosened.
Your chest can be still now. Let your thumbs rest where they landed.
The carpet is the colour of weak coffee and absorbs every sound. The curtains are heavy and close properly, which is rarer than it should be.
If your body wants to move, let it move, then come back. Notice if your attention is in the future. Bring it back to the room.
Notice the places where your body touches the bed, and let them be heavy. Feel the back of your knees soften into the bed.
Let the breath be the only thing you are doing. Let them.
Almost nothing to do now. Let the sound of this go soft at the edges. Just the weight.
The words can start to blur now. Follow the breath out, and let the next one arrive by itself. They will find their own way out.
Restless is different from tired, and it needs a different approach.
That is the end of the story. Sleep is the next part, and it does not need instructions.
21 paragraphs, roughly 4 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for travel, anonymous.
If this story does not settle you, try A hotel room somewhere (a sleep story), when the day has been loud — for the hours after a late shift, Sleep story: a lake before dawn, after eating too much — for an overtired night or The house after everyone is asleep — a slow story for the end of the day, before something difficult — for a restless night.