Sleep story · quiet, home
Sleep story: the house after everyone is asleep, when you have tried everything else — for waking too early
The hour when the house belongs to nobody and nothing needs doing.
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
Everything in the room is exactly where it was left. There is a chair by the window that nobody sits in during the day. The floorboards have stopped creaking because nobody is walking on them.
The clock in the hallway ticks slightly behind the one in the kitchen. The curtains are not quite closed, and there is a thin line of streetlight along the wall. Outside, a car goes past and its headlights sweep across the ceiling, then are gone.
Feel your wrists loosen. Let your palms open if they were closed.
Feel the back of your knees soften into the bed. Your eyelids can be too heavy to open, and that is fine.
The fridge hums on and off in the kitchen, and that is the loudest thing in the building. The lamp beside you is the only light left on in the whole house.
Feel your belly rise and fall without any help from you. Feel your cheeks let go.
Notice the places where your body touches the bed, and let them be heavy. Feel one shoulder go heavy, then the other.
The radiator clicks once as it cools down. There is nothing left on the list for today.
Now feel your whole body at once, lying here, being held up. Your ankles can go loose now.
A glass of water sits on the table, half finished. Everyone went to bed an hour ago, and the house has stopped making the sounds it makes during the day.
Let your forearms get heavy and warm. Feel the top of your head relax into the pillow.
If you're judging your performance, that's the same habit as judging everything else. If you're bored, stay with the boredom for a moment. It's usually thinner than it looks.
Let your forehead go cool and smooth. Let your tongue sit heavy in your mouth.
Slower now. Softer.
You can stop listening properly. Let the quiet be boring. Just the dark.
They will find their own way out. Let the next part go past without you. Let the room get slightly further away.
This assumes you have already tried the obvious things.
The room is dark, the day is finished, and nothing is required of you.
18 paragraphs, roughly 3 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for quiet, home.
If this story does not settle you, try Sleep story: a lake before dawn, when you have been on screens all day — for a racing mind, The house after everyone is asleep — a slow story for the end of the day, when you are short on time — for a restless night or A hotel room somewhere, when you are somewhere unfamiliar — for jet lag.