Sleep story · warm, home
Sleep story: a kitchen late at night, if you have five quiet minutes — for the hours after a late shift
One small light on, a cooling cup of tea, and the rest of the house dark.
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 cup of tea beside you that has gone past drinking temperature. There is no reason to be awake, and no reason to move either. A plate dries on the rack with a slow drip every so often.
Someone upstairs turns over, and the ceiling creaks once. Through the window you can see the back garden, which is doing nothing at all. The fridge motor stops, and the room gets even quieter.
Your elbows can stop being hinges for now. Your eyelids can be too heavy to open, and that is fine.
Notice your hips, wide and settled. Notice the places where your body touches the bed, and let them be heavy.
The tiles under your feet are cold in one corner and warm in another. The kitchen is warm, and the small light over the hob is the only one on.
Let your palms open if they were closed. Let your forehead go cool and smooth.
Feel the weight of your head on the pillow. Feel your cheeks let go.
There is a bowl of fruit nobody has touched since Tuesday. The clock on the oven shows a time that feels later than it is.
Feel one shoulder go heavy, then the other. Your jaw can drop slightly. Let your teeth part.
Your chair is pulled out slightly, the way you left it. The tea towel is folded over the rail, still slightly damp.
Feel your belly rise and fall without any help from you. Let your forearms get heavy and warm.
The clock on the oven shows a time that feels later than it is. Your chair is pulled out slightly, the way you left it.
Let your upper arms fall wherever gravity puts them. Let your hands be completely still.
The tiles under your feet are cold in one corner and warm in another. Someone upstairs turns over, and the ceiling creaks once.
Notice whether you're breathing or holding. Start breathing again. Notice the tone of your own inner voice. Is it kind?
Let your calves spread out and flatten. Feel the weight of the blanket on your legs.
Let the sound of this go soft at the edges. Let your attention settle somewhere low, like your feet.
Softer. Let them. Almost nothing to do now.
Follow the breath out, and let the next one arrive by itself. Slower now. Slower.
Five quiet minutes is enough. Ten is generous.
The end. Sleep well.
21 paragraphs, roughly 3 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for warm, home.