Sleep story · still, water
Sleep story: a lake before dawn, when you have already had a long week — for a restless night
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
Your boat is tied up and moving just enough to be noticeable. The water makes a small sound against the posts, once every few seconds. Somewhere behind you, a gate opens and closes.
The air is cold in a clean way, and smells of water and cut grass. The sky is the colour of unpolished pewter. The mist sits about a foot above the surface and does not move.
Notice the places where your body touches the bed, and let them be heavy. Let your thighs be as heavy as they want to be.
Let the mattress take all of it. Your ankles can go loose now.
There is a coil of rope on the deck, still damp from yesterday. Nothing on the lake is in a hurry, including you.
Feel your belly rise and fall without any help from you. Let your hands be completely still.
Let your breathing get slower without deciding to slow it. Feel your cheeks let go.
There is a wooden jetty a few metres out, with one plank that has gone grey and soft. The lake is completely flat, the way it only gets in the hour before the light comes.
Notice any tension that arrived while you weren't looking. Notice the difference between a thought and the space around it.
Your fingers can stop doing anything at all. Let your forehead go cool and smooth.
Almost nothing to do now. Let your attention settle somewhere low, like your feet.
Softer. Follow the breath out, and let the next one arrive by itself. Let the sound of this go soft at the edges.
Long weeks are cumulative. This is a small subtraction.
There is nothing more to follow. Let the rest happen on its own.
14 paragraphs, roughly 2 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for still, water.
If this story does not settle you, try A kitchen late at night (a sleep story), when you have been on screens all day — for a racing mind, An attic room — a slow story for the end of the day, when you are waiting for something — for winding down or A hotel room somewhere — a slow story for the end of the day, when you are cold and want to be warm — for a night when you do not want to think.