Sleep story · still, water
Sleep story: a lake before dawn, when nothing else has worked today — for winding down
Flat water, no wind, and light that has not arrived yet.
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 air is cold in a clean way, and smells of water and cut grass. Somewhere behind you, a gate opens and closes. There is a wooden jetty a few metres out, with one plank that has gone grey and soft.
The sky is the colour of unpolished pewter. The lake is completely flat, the way it only gets in the hour before the light comes. Nothing on the lake is in a hurry, including you.
Your ankles can go loose now. Feel your cheeks let go.
Let your calves spread out and flatten. Notice your hips, wide and settled.
The mist sits about a foot above the surface and does not move. A single bird crosses the water low and slow, without calling.
Feel the back of your knees soften into the bed. Let the back of your neck lengthen out.
If nothing much is happening, that's not a problem. Nothing much is often the point. If you're bored, stay with the boredom for a moment. It's usually thinner than it looks.
Feel the weight of your head on the pillow. Let the pillow take the whole weight of your head.
Follow the breath out, and let the next one arrive by itself. Slower now.
Let the sound of this go soft at the edges. Slower. Let the next part go past without you.
Nothing else has worked today. That is not a reason to skip this.
The end. Sleep well.
12 paragraphs, roughly 2 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for still, water.
If this story does not settle you, try Sleep story: a library at closing time, when you have woken up too early — for a racing mind, A boat at anchor, if you are doing this in the middle of the day — for winding down or Sleep story: a lake before dawn, after eating too much — for an overtired night.