Sleep story · quiet, books
Sleep story: a library at closing time, when you have woken up too early — for waking too early
The last hour, when the lights go down row by row.
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 own book is heavy in your hands, and you have stopped reading it. Someone is pushing a trolley two rows away, and you can hear each wheel separately. The carpet has flattened every sound in the building down to nothing.
The last of the day's light is going out of the high windows. A book lies open on the next table, face down, which is technically not allowed. The air smells of paper, dust and floor polish.
Let the space between your eyebrows smooth out. Let your thighs be as heavy as they want to be.
Let your thumbs rest where they landed. Notice your hips, wide and settled.
Everything here will still be here tomorrow. The windows are dark enough now to reflect the room back at you.
Let your feet get heavy first. Heavier than they need to be. Let the mattress take all of it.
Let your hands be completely still. Your jaw can drop slightly. Let your teeth part.
The reading room you are in has one lamp left on, and it is the one above your table. The library closed twenty minutes ago, and the staff are working along the far shelves, switching off sections.
Let your palms open if they were closed. Let your ribs stop working so hard.
There is a trolley of returned books beside the desk, waiting to be put back. The clock above the door is the old kind, with a second hand that moves in small jumps.
Let your upper arms fall wherever gravity puts them. Your ankles can go loose now.
Everything here will still be here tomorrow. The clock above the door is the old kind, with a second hand that moves in small jumps.
Feel your heartbeat somewhere far away. Notice how much of you has already stopped moving.
The last of the day's light is going out of the high windows. There is a trolley of returned books beside the desk, waiting to be put back.
Notice whether you're breathing or holding. Start breathing again. If a song is stuck in your head, let it play in the background.
Let your shoulder blades spread out and drop. Feel your cheeks let go.
Let the room get slightly further away. Just the breath.
Let the dark be ordinary. Stay. Let it all get further away.
Slower now. Almost nothing to do now. Sleep.
Waking too early is a specific kind of frustrating. This helps with the frustration.
Let everything get quiet, including this.
21 paragraphs, roughly 3 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for quiet, books.
If this story does not settle you, try A boat at anchor — a slow story for the end of the day, when you are on your own — for jet lag, The night train (a sleep story), when you are cold and want to be warm — for a restless night or A field under snow (a sleep story), when you are not sure this will work — for the hours after a late shift.