Sleep story · warm, home
Sleep story: a kitchen late at night, when you are not in the mood — for a racing mind
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 bowl of fruit nobody has touched since Tuesday. Someone upstairs turns over, and the ceiling creaks once. A plate dries on the rack with a slow drip every so often.
The tea towel is folded over the rail, still slightly damp. The kitchen is warm, and the small light over the hob is the only one on. Your chair is pulled out slightly, the way you left it.
Let your feet get heavy first. Heavier than they need to be. Feel your heartbeat somewhere far away.
Feel your heels sink a little into the mattress. Let your toes stop holding on to anything.
The clock on the oven shows a time that feels later than it is. Through the window you can see the back garden, which is doing nothing at all.
Feel the weight of your head on the pillow. Notice the places where your body touches the bed, and let them be heavy.
Let the pillow take the whole weight of your head. Let the space between your eyebrows smooth out.
The tiles under your feet are cold in one corner and warm in another. The fridge motor stops, and the room gets even quieter.
Let your breathing get slower without deciding to slow it. Now feel your whole body at once, lying here, being held up.
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.
Let your shoulder blades spread out and drop. Feel one shoulder go heavy, then the other.
The clock on the oven shows a time that feels later than it is. The kitchen is warm, and the small light over the hob is the only one on.
Let your forehead go cool and smooth. Let your ribs stop working so hard.
Your chair is pulled out slightly, the way you left it. A plate dries on the rack with a slow drip every so often.
If you're bored, stay with the boredom for a moment. It's usually thinner than it looks. Notice the tone of your own inner voice. Is it kind?
Let your thumbs rest where they landed. Feel the top of your head relax into the pillow.
Almost nothing to do now. Stay with the weight of your body.
Let each breath be a little smaller than the last. Nothing here needs following closely. Let the next part go past without you.
Softer. Just the breath. Let the room get slightly further away.
Not being in the mood is a normal starting point.
There is nothing more to follow. Let the rest happen on its own.
21 paragraphs, roughly 3 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for warm, home.
If this story does not settle you, try A lighthouse at the end of a long day (a sleep story), when you have been putting it off — for the hours after a late shift, The house after everyone is asleep — a slow story for the end of the day, before something difficult — for jet lag or Sleep story: a library at closing time, when you only have a few minutes — for a restless night.