Sleep story · travel, cozy
Sleep story: the night train, if you are doing this instead of scrolling — for the hours after a late shift
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 train left a quarter of an hour ago, and the carriage has already settled into its own quiet. The heating is on low, and the air smells faintly of clean metal and old upholstery. Somewhere ahead of you, a door opens and closes with a soft, deliberate sound.
The seat reclines one notch further than you expected it to. Outside, the fields go past without anything in them you need to see. The rhythm underneath you is steady enough to lean on.
Let your tongue sit heavy in your mouth. Your ankles can go loose now.
Let your forearms get heavy and warm. Let your ribs stop working so hard.
There is one other person in this carriage, four rows up, asleep with a coat over their knees. Every so often the wheels change their note as they cross a join in the rail.
Let your palms open if they were closed. Let your forehead go cool and smooth.
Your fingers can stop doing anything at all. Feel your heartbeat somewhere far away.
The window is cool against the side of your face. The lights along the aisle are dimmed to the colour of weak tea.
Notice the places where your body touches the bed, and let them be heavy. Feel your cheeks let go.
A station passes without stopping — a platform, a lamp, three empty benches, then dark again. Your bag is wedged under the seat in front, out of the way of your feet.
Let your hands be completely still. Let your upper arms fall wherever gravity puts them.
The rhythm underneath you is steady enough to lean on. A station passes without stopping — a platform, a lamp, three empty benches, then dark again.
Let your lower back sink down into the mattress. Notice your hips, wide and settled.
Your bag is wedged under the seat in front, out of the way of your feet. The seat reclines one notch further than you expected it to.
Notice the difference between a thought and the space around it. If your body wants to move, let it move, then come back.
Let everything you were holding today stay on the floor beside the bed. Let your thumbs rest where they landed.
Stay with the weight of your body. Let the thoughts come and go without you getting up to answer.
Just the dark. Let it all get further away. The words can start to blur now.
Just the breath. Stay. Leave it there.
Choosing this over scrolling counts as a good decision, even a small one.
The room is dark, the day is finished, and nothing is required of you.
21 paragraphs, roughly 3 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for travel, cozy.