Sleep story · sea, still
Sleep story: a lighthouse at the end of a long day, when the weather has kept you inside — for a restless night
One light turning, a kettle, and weather you are on the right side of.
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 window is thick and slightly green at the edges. The lighthouse turns once every fifteen seconds, and you have stopped counting it. There is a chair pulled up to the window that fits exactly one person.
The room at the top is small, round and warm, with a kettle on a ring. The tea in your hands is too hot to drink and you are just holding it. There is a logbook open on the table with the last entry in someone else's handwriting.
Notice your hips, wide and settled. Let your hands be completely still.
Feel one shoulder go heavy, then the other. Let your palms open if they were closed.
Your coat is on the hook by the door, still wet at the shoulders. The wind is doing a low, steady thing against the glass.
Feel your cheeks let go. Let your upper arms fall wherever gravity puts them.
Notice the moment you realise you've drifted. That moment is the whole skill. If you're counting the minutes, that's fine. Count them and come back.
Let the mattress take all of it. Let your ribs stop working so hard.
Stay with the weight of your body. You can stop listening properly.
Softer. You do not have to count them. The words can start to blur now.
Bad weather is a decent excuse to stay in and do this.
Let the words go now, and take the quiet with you.
12 paragraphs, roughly 2 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for sea, still.
If this story does not settle you, try A fire dying down (a sleep story), if you have done this a hundred times — for winding down, A lighthouse at the end of a long day — a slow story for the end of the day, if you are doing this in the middle of the day — for waking too early or A garden in the rain, when you want to finish something — for jet lag.