Sleep story · still, water

Sleep story: a lake before dawn, when you have been on screens all day — for an overtired 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.

Read it myself

Screen on or off — we suggest dimming it, or simply closing your eyes after the first paragraph.

The story, in full

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. There is a coil of rope on the deck, still damp from yesterday.

A single bird crosses the water low and slow, without calling. Your boat is tied up and moving just enough to be noticeable. Nothing on the lake is in a hurry, including you.

Let the mattress take all of it. Let your feet get heavy first. Heavier than they need to be.

Feel the top of your head relax into the pillow. Let your calves spread out and flatten.

The lake is completely flat, the way it only gets in the hour before the light comes. The air is cold in a clean way, and smells of water and cut grass.

Your fingers can stop doing anything at all. Let your hands be completely still.

If your body wants to move, let it move, then come back. If you're thinking about the next thing on your list, that list will still be there.

Let your thumbs rest where they landed. Let your forehead go cool and smooth.

Almost nothing to do now. Just the breath.

They will find their own way out. Leave it there. Sleep.

After a day of screens, the eyes and the shoulders need this first.

The end. Sleep well.

12 paragraphs, roughly 2 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for still, water.