Sleep story · travel, cozy
Sleep story: the night train, when you are too tired to try hard — for a restless night
Somewhere between two cities, in the dark, where nobody needs anything from you.
Reading it yourself. Back to the audio version.
The window is cool against the side of your face. 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.
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. Your bag is wedged under the seat in front, out of the way of your feet.
Your jaw can drop slightly. Let your teeth part. Now feel your whole body at once, lying here, being held up.
Feel your belly rise and fall without any help from you. Feel your cheeks let go.
The lights along the aisle are dimmed to the colour of weak tea. A station passes without stopping — a platform, a lamp, three empty benches, then dark again.
Your fingers can stop doing anything at all. Let your thumbs rest where they landed.
Feel the top of your head relax into the pillow. Feel the weight of your head on the pillow.
The rhythm underneath you is steady enough to lean on. There is one other person in this carriage, four rows up, asleep with a coat over their knees.
If nothing much is happening, that's not a problem. Nothing much is often the point. If you feel numb, that's a valid thing to feel. Nothing to fix.
Feel your heartbeat somewhere far away. Let your ribs stop working so hard.
Let the room get slightly further away. Let each breath be a little smaller than the last.
Nothing here needs following closely. Let the thoughts come and go without you getting up to answer. Let the next part go past without you.
Too tired to try hard is exactly the right amount of tired for this.
Let the words go now, and take the quiet with you.