Sleep story · travel, cozy
Sleep story: the night train, when you are somewhere noisy — for winding down
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 seat reclines one notch further than you expected it to. The train left a quarter of an hour ago, and the carriage has already settled into its own quiet. 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. Outside, the fields go past without anything in them you need to see. The rhythm underneath you is steady enough to lean on.
Let everything you were holding today stay on the floor beside the bed. Let your upper arms fall wherever gravity puts them.
Let your forearms get heavy and warm. Let your thighs be as heavy as they want to be.
Somewhere ahead of you, a door opens and closes with a soft, deliberate sound. There is one other person in this carriage, four rows up, asleep with a coat over their knees.
Feel one shoulder go heavy, then the other. Let your thumbs rest where they landed.
Your fingers can stop doing anything at all. Feel your wrists loosen.
The window is cool against the side of your face. The heating is on low, and the air smells faintly of clean metal and old upholstery.
Let your shoulder blades spread out and drop. Your jaw can drop slightly. Let your teeth part.
Every so often the wheels change their note as they cross a join in the rail. The lights along the aisle are dimmed to the colour of weak tea.
Feel the top of your head relax into the pillow. Notice the places where your body touches the bed, and let them be heavy.
If nothing much is happening, that's not a problem. Nothing much is often the point. Notice how you're sitting. Adjust if you need to. Then settle again.
Notice your hips, wide and settled. Let your forehead go cool and smooth.
The words can start to blur now. Let the room get slightly further away.
Let the next part go past without you. You can stop listening properly. Stay.
Let the thoughts come and go without you getting up to answer. Sleep. Let the dark be ordinary.
Noise is fine. You are not trying to hear anything subtle.
No more sentences. Just the weight of you in the bed.
18 paragraphs, roughly 3 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for travel, cozy.
If this story does not settle you, try Sleep story: a lake before dawn, when you have already had a long week — for waking too early, Sleep story: a fire dying down, when you feel restless rather than tired — for jet lag or The house after everyone is asleep — a slow story for the end of the day, when you are short on time — for a restless night.