Sleep story · travel, cozy
Sleep story: the night train, when you have tried everything else — for a night when you do not want to think
Somewhere between two cities, in the dark, where nobody needs anything from you.
Reading it yourself. Back to the audio version.
Every so often the wheels change their note as they cross a join in the rail. 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.
A station passes without stopping — a platform, a lamp, three empty benches, then dark again. The train left a quarter of an hour ago, and the carriage has already settled into its own quiet. Outside, the fields go past without anything in them you need to see.
Let the pillow take the whole weight of your head. Feel one shoulder go heavy, then the other.
Your ankles can go loose now. Feel the top of your head relax into the pillow.
The rhythm underneath you is steady enough to lean on. 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. Your fingers can stop doing anything at all.
Your mind will leave about a hundred times. Come back about a hundred times. Notice the pull to make this mean something. It doesn't have to.
Notice your hips, wide and settled. Feel your belly rise and fall without any help from you.
Let the sound of this go soft at the edges. Slower now.
Stay. Just the weight. Let your attention settle somewhere low, like your feet.
This assumes you have already tried the obvious things.
Let this be the last thing you listen to.