Sleep story · still, water
Sleep story: a lake before dawn, when you have already had a long week — for waking too early
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 mist sits about a foot above the surface and does not move. The air is cold in a clean way, and smells of water and cut grass. There is a wooden jetty a few metres out, with one plank that has gone grey and soft.
The water makes a small sound against the posts, once every few seconds. Nothing on the lake is in a hurry, including you. There is a coil of rope on the deck, still damp from yesterday.
Feel the back of your knees soften into the bed. Let the space between your eyebrows smooth out.
Your ankles can go loose now. Feel your heartbeat somewhere far away.
The sky is the colour of unpolished pewter. A single bird crosses the water low and slow, without calling.
Your jaw can drop slightly. Let your teeth part. Your eyelids can be too heavy to open, and that is fine.
Let your ribs stop working so hard. Notice your hips, wide and settled.
The lake is completely flat, the way it only gets in the hour before the light comes. Somewhere behind you, a gate opens and closes.
If you're irritated, that's allowed. Irritation is just weather. Notice any part of you that wants this to be over.
Feel your wrists loosen. Notice how much of you has already stopped moving.
You do not have to count them. Almost nothing to do now.
Softer. Follow the breath out, and let the next one arrive by itself. Just the weight.
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 lake before dawn, when you are on your own — for a restless night, A lighthouse at the end of a long day — a slow story for the end of the day, after eating too much — for a night when you do not want to think or The night train, before something difficult — for waking too early.