Sleep story · travel, cozy
Sleep story: the night train, if you are doing this instead of scrolling — for a night when you do not want to think
Somewhere between two cities, in the dark, where nobody needs anything from you.
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 heating is on low, and the air smells faintly of clean metal and old upholstery. The rhythm underneath you is steady enough to lean on. Outside, the fields go past without anything in them you need to see.
Your bag is wedged under the seat in front, out of the way of your feet. Every so often the wheels change their note as they cross a join in the rail. The window is cool against the side of your face.
Your elbows can stop being hinges for now. Now feel your whole body at once, lying here, being held up.
Feel your wrists loosen. Your jaw can drop slightly. Let your teeth part.
A station passes without stopping — a platform, a lamp, three empty benches, then dark again. The train left a quarter of an hour ago, and the carriage has already settled into its own quiet.
Let everything you were holding today stay on the floor beside the bed. Feel your heels sink a little into the mattress.
Notice how much of you has already stopped moving. Your eyelids can be too heavy to open, and that is fine.
There is one other person in this carriage, four rows up, asleep with a coat over their knees. The seat reclines one notch further than you expected it to.
Let your upper arms fall wherever gravity puts them. Let the back of your neck lengthen out.
Somewhere ahead of you, a door opens and closes with a soft, deliberate sound. The lights along the aisle are dimmed to the colour of weak tea.
Let your hands be completely still. Notice your hips, wide and settled.
Somewhere ahead of you, a door opens and closes with a soft, deliberate sound. The train left a quarter of an hour ago, and the carriage has already settled into its own quiet.
Let the pillow take the whole weight of your head. Feel your cheeks let go.
The window is cool against the side of your face. There is one other person in this carriage, four rows up, asleep with a coat over their knees.
Notice if your attention is in the future. Bring it back to the room. If you're bored, stay with the boredom for a moment. It's usually thinner than it looks.
Feel the weight of the blanket on your legs. Let your shoulder blades spread out and drop.
Let it all get further away. Let the thoughts come and go without you getting up to answer.
Let the sound of this go soft at the edges. Nothing here needs following closely. The words can start to blur now.
Let the quiet be boring. Sleep. Slower now.
Choosing this over scrolling counts as a good decision, even a small one.
No more sentences. Just the weight of you in the bed.
21 paragraphs, roughly 4 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for travel, cozy.
If this story does not settle you, try The night train (a sleep story), when you need to stop thinking about work — for a racing mind, A garden in the rain, when you have more time than usual — for winding down or A fire dying down — a slow story for the end of the day, when you have already had a long week — for jet lag.