Sleep story · quiet, home
Sleep story: the house after everyone is asleep, when you want to be left alone — for a racing mind
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. The curtains are not quite closed, and there is a thin line of streetlight along the wall. Everyone went to bed an hour ago, and the house has stopped making the sounds it makes during the day.
There is nothing left on the list for today. A glass of water sits on the table, half finished. The radiator clicks once as it cools down.
Let your hands be completely still. Let the space between your eyebrows smooth out.
Let your toes stop holding on to anything. Let your thighs be as heavy as they want to be.
The clock in the hallway ticks slightly behind the one in the kitchen. The fridge hums on and off in the kitchen, and that is the loudest thing in the building.
Let your ribs stop working so hard. Let your shoulder blades spread out and drop.
Feel one shoulder go heavy, then the other. Feel the weight of your head on the pillow.
The lamp beside you is the only light left on in the whole house. Outside, a car goes past and its headlights sweep across the ceiling, then are gone.
Notice any tension that arrived while you weren't looking. If a worry shows up, name it quietly and let it sit beside you.
Let your feet get heavy first. Heavier than they need to be. Feel your heartbeat somewhere far away.
Nothing here needs following closely. Stay.
Almost nothing to do now. Nothing needs deciding tonight. Let it all get further away.
Nothing here asks anything of you socially.
The end. Sleep well.
14 paragraphs, roughly 2 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for quiet, home.
If this story does not settle you, try A fire dying down, when you have more time than usual — for a racing mind, A lake before dawn, when the weather has kept you inside — for winding down or A lighthouse at the end of a long day — a slow story for the end of the day, when you have already had a long week — for jet lag.