Sleep story · travel, cozy
Sleep story: the night train, when you are somewhere unfamiliar — for waking too early
Somewhere between two cities, in the dark, where nobody needs anything from you.
Reading it yourself. Back to the audio version.
Outside, the fields go past without anything in them you need to see. The window is cool against the side of your face. Every so often the wheels change their note as they cross a join in the rail.
There is one other person in this carriage, four rows up, asleep with a coat over their knees. The rhythm underneath you is steady enough to lean on. Somewhere ahead of you, a door opens and closes with a soft, deliberate sound.
Let your hands be completely still. Notice how much of you has already stopped moving.
Feel your cheeks let go. Feel the weight of the blanket on your legs.
The heating is on low, and the air smells faintly of clean metal and old upholstery. Your bag is wedged under the seat in front, out of the way of your feet.
Your elbows can stop being hinges for now. Your jaw can drop slightly. Let your teeth part.
If your mind has wandered, that's not a mistake. Noticing is the practice. Notice the moment you realise you've drifted. That moment is the whole skill.
Let the mattress take all of it. Your eyelids can be too heavy to open, and that is fine.
Let the breath be the only thing you are doing. Almost nothing to do now.
The words can start to blur now. Just the breath. Just the dark.
It travels well. Hotels, spare rooms, other people’s sofas.
The room is dark, the day is finished, and nothing is required of you.