Sleep story · quiet, home
Sleep story: the house after everyone is asleep, when the day has been loud — for an overtired night
The hour when the house belongs to nobody and nothing needs doing.
Reading it yourself. Back to the audio version.
The radiator clicks once as it cools down. There is a chair by the window that nobody sits in during the day. Everyone went to bed an hour ago, and the house has stopped making the sounds it makes during the day.
Everything in the room is exactly where it was left. The floorboards have stopped creaking because nobody is walking on them. There is nothing left on the list for today.
Feel the top of your head relax into the pillow. Let everything you were holding today stay on the floor beside the bed.
Feel the back of your knees soften into the bed. Now feel your whole body at once, lying here, being held up.
Outside, a car goes past and its headlights sweep across the ceiling, then are gone. The fridge hums on and off in the kitchen, and that is the loudest thing in the building.
Let your forehead go cool and smooth. Your eyelids can be too heavy to open, and that is fine.
Feel one shoulder go heavy, then the other. Let your tongue sit heavy in your mouth.
The clock in the hallway ticks slightly behind the one in the kitchen. The lamp beside you is the only light left on in the whole house.
Let your toes stop holding on to anything. Notice how much of you has already stopped moving.
The curtains are not quite closed, and there is a thin line of streetlight along the wall. A glass of water sits on the table, half finished.
Feel your cheeks let go. Your fingers can stop doing anything at all.
There is nothing left on the list for today. The clock in the hallway ticks slightly behind the one in the kitchen.
Let the pillow take the whole weight of your head. Let your upper arms fall wherever gravity puts them.
Everyone went to bed an hour ago, and the house has stopped making the sounds it makes during the day. The lamp beside you is the only light left on in the whole house.
If you're replaying a conversation, let it play. It'll finish on its own. If a worry shows up, name it quietly and let it sit beside you.
Your jaw can drop slightly. Let your teeth part. Let your ribs stop working so hard.
Let the thoughts come and go without you getting up to answer. Slower.
Just the breath. Just the dark. Stay with the weight of your body.
The words can start to blur now. Stay. Let the room get slightly further away.
For days that were loud from the moment they started.
Goodnight. There is nothing left to do.