Sleep story · quiet, home
The house after everyone is asleep, when you need to stop thinking about work — for an overtired night
The hour when the house belongs to nobody and nothing needs doing.
Reading it yourself. Back to the audio version.
The floorboards have stopped creaking because nobody is walking on them. The clock in the hallway ticks slightly behind the one in the kitchen. The fridge hums on and off in the kitchen, and that is the loudest thing in the building.
The curtains are not quite closed, and there is a thin line of streetlight along the wall. Everyone went to bed an hour ago, and the house has stopped making the sounds it makes during the day. The lamp beside you is the only light left on in the whole house.
Let your palms open if they were closed. Your ankles can go loose now.
Let your ribs stop working so hard. Let your forehead go cool and smooth.
The radiator clicks once as it cools down. Everything in the room is exactly where it was left.
Let your upper arms fall wherever gravity puts them. Your jaw can drop slightly. Let your teeth part.
Your chest can be still now. Let your thighs be as heavy as they want to be.
There is a chair by the window that nobody sits in during the day. Outside, a car goes past and its headlights sweep across the ceiling, then are gone.
Feel your heels sink a little into the mattress. Feel your belly rise and fall without any help from you.
A glass of water sits on the table, half finished. There is nothing left on the list for today.
Let your toes stop holding on to anything. Let the back of your neck lengthen out.
The radiator clicks once as it cools down. There is a chair by the window that nobody sits in during the day.
Feel your cheeks let go. Let your calves spread out and flatten.
There is nothing left on the list for today. The clock in the hallway ticks slightly behind the one in the kitchen.
If your body wants to move, let it move, then come back. Notice how quickly your mind labels things: good, bad, boring, nice.
Let your tongue sit heavy in your mouth. Let your feet get heavy first. Heavier than they need to be.
Just the weight. Leave it there.
Let the breath be the only thing you are doing. You can stop listening properly. Let them.
Sleep. Slower now. Let it all get further away.
Work thoughts are allowed to be there. They just do not get to drive.
No more sentences. Just the weight of you in the bed.