Sleep story · quiet, home
The house after everyone is asleep, if you have five quiet minutes — for jet lag
The hour when the house belongs to nobody and nothing needs doing.
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
There is a chair by the window that nobody sits in during the day. There is nothing left on the list for today. A glass of water sits on the table, half finished.
Outside, a car goes past and its headlights sweep across the ceiling, then are gone. The radiator clicks once as it cools down. Everything in the room is exactly where it was left.
Let your thighs be as heavy as they want to be. Your ankles can go loose now.
Let everything you were holding today stay on the floor beside the bed. Let the pillow take the whole weight of your head.
The clock in the hallway ticks slightly behind the one in the kitchen. The lamp beside you is the only light left on in the whole house.
Your jaw can drop slightly. Let your teeth part. Let the back of your neck lengthen out.
If you're bored, stay with the boredom for a moment. It's usually thinner than it looks. Notice if you're waiting for something to happen. Nothing is scheduled.
Let your breathing get slower without deciding to slow it. Feel one shoulder go heavy, then the other.
Sleep. Let the dark be ordinary.
Let the quiet be boring. Let each breath be a little smaller than the last. Slower now.
Five quiet minutes is enough. Ten is generous.
I will stop here. The quiet will carry on without the words.
12 paragraphs, roughly 2 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for quiet, home.
If this story does not settle you, try A kitchen late at night, after a long day — for waking too early, An attic room, before you go back to something hard — for a racing mind or The night train (a sleep story), when you want to finish something — for an overtired night.