Sleep story · travel, cozy
Sleep story: the night train for waking too early
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
There is one other person in this carriage, four rows up, asleep with a coat over their knees. Outside, the fields go past without anything in them you need to see. 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. The window is cool against the side of your face.
Let your shoulder blades spread out and drop. Let the mattress take all of it.
Your chest can be still now. Let your hands be completely still.
Your bag is wedged under the seat in front, out of the way of your feet. The train left a quarter of an hour ago, and the carriage has already settled into its own quiet.
Feel your wrists loosen. Let your forearms get heavy and warm.
Let your lower back sink down into the mattress. Let your ribs stop working so hard.
A station passes without stopping — a platform, a lamp, three empty benches, then dark again. The rhythm underneath you is steady enough to lean on.
Feel your heels sink a little into the mattress. Feel your heartbeat somewhere far away.
The lights along the aisle are dimmed to the colour of weak tea. Every so often the wheels change their note as they cross a join in the rail.
Your eyelids can be too heavy to open, and that is fine. Feel the top of your head relax into the pillow.
If a song is stuck in your head, let it play in the background. Notice how you're sitting. Adjust if you need to. Then settle again.
Now feel your whole body at once, lying here, being held up. Feel the weight of your head on the pillow.
You do not have to count them. Let the quiet be boring.
Just the breath. Let the sound of this go soft at the edges. Just the dark.
Follow the breath out, and let the next one arrive by itself. Stay with the weight of your body. Just the weight.
A day that started badly does not have to stay that way.
There is nothing more to follow. Let the rest happen on its own.
18 paragraphs, roughly 3 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for travel, cozy.
If this story does not settle you, try Sleep story: a garden in the rain, if you are fitting this around other people — for a night when you do not want to think, Sleep story: an attic room for jet lag or Sleep story: the night train for jet lag.