Sleep story · quiet, books
Sleep story: a library at closing time, when you only have a few minutes — for jet lag
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
A book lies open on the next table, face down, which is technically not allowed. Your own book is heavy in your hands, and you have stopped reading it. Everything here will still be here tomorrow.
The carpet has flattened every sound in the building down to nothing. Someone is pushing a trolley two rows away, and you can hear each wheel separately. The clock above the door is the old kind, with a second hand that moves in small jumps.
Let your toes stop holding on to anything. Let your forehead go cool and smooth.
Let your shoulder blades spread out and drop. Let the pillow take the whole weight of your head.
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 your hips, wide and settled. Let your upper arms fall wherever gravity puts them.
Feel the top of your head relax into the pillow. Feel your wrists loosen.
The air smells of paper, dust and floor polish. The windows are dark enough now to reflect the room back at you.
If your body wants to move, let it move, then come back. If you've lost track of where we were, you haven't lost anything important.
Let your palms open if they were closed. Notice how much of you has already stopped moving.
Just the weight. Softer.
The words can start to blur now. Sleep. Let the breath be the only thing you are doing.
A few minutes is the whole requirement.
Let everything get quiet, including this.
14 paragraphs, roughly 2 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for quiet, books.
If this story does not settle you, try A hotel room somewhere, when you are somewhere unfamiliar — for jet lag, A fire dying down — a slow story for the end of the day, when you need something unremarkable — for a racing mind or The house after everyone is asleep (a sleep story), when you have been meaning to start — for a night when you do not want to think.