Sleep story · travel, cozy
Sleep story: the night train, when you are somewhere noisy — for jet lag
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 rhythm underneath you is steady enough to lean on. The window is cool against the side of your face. Your bag is wedged under the seat in front, out of the way of your feet.
Somewhere ahead of you, a door opens and closes with a soft, deliberate sound. Every so often the wheels change their note as they cross a join in the rail. The seat reclines one notch further than you expected it to.
Notice the places where your body touches the bed, and let them be heavy. Feel your wrists loosen.
Let your ribs stop working so hard. Feel your cheeks let go.
There is one other person in this carriage, four rows up, asleep with a coat over their knees. A station passes without stopping — a platform, a lamp, three empty benches, then dark again.
Feel the weight of the blanket on your legs. Let your toes stop holding on to anything.
Feel the back of your knees soften into the bed. Let everything you were holding today stay on the floor beside the bed.
Outside, the fields go past without anything in them you need to see. The train left a quarter of an hour ago, and the carriage has already settled into its own quiet.
Let your feet get heavy first. Heavier than they need to be. Your ankles can go loose now.
The lights along the aisle are dimmed to the colour of weak tea. The heating is on low, and the air smells faintly of clean metal and old upholstery.
Now feel your whole body at once, lying here, being held up. Notice how much of you has already stopped moving.
Your mind will leave about a hundred times. Come back about a hundred times. If you're thinking about the next thing on your list, that list will still be there.
Feel your heels sink a little into the mattress. Let the back of your neck lengthen out.
Just the weight. Stay with the weight of your body.
The words can start to blur now. Let the thoughts come and go without you getting up to answer. Follow the breath out, and let the next one arrive by itself.
Let it all get further away. You can stop listening properly. Let the quiet be boring.
Noise is fine. You are not trying to hear anything subtle.
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.