Sleep story · travel, cozy
The night train (a sleep story), when you are cold and want to be warm — for a restless night
Somewhere between two cities, in the dark, where nobody needs anything from you.
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
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. Somewhere ahead of you, a door opens and closes with a soft, deliberate sound.
The window is cool against the side of your face. Your bag is wedged under the seat in front, out of the way of your feet. The rhythm underneath you is steady enough to lean on.
Your chest can be still now. Let the pillow take the whole weight of your head.
Let your forehead go cool and smooth. Your fingers can stop doing anything at all.
A station passes without stopping — a platform, a lamp, three empty benches, then dark again. Outside, the fields go past without anything in them you need to see.
Feel your cheeks let go. Let your tongue sit heavy in your mouth.
Notice the places where your body touches the bed, and let them be heavy. Your elbows can stop being hinges for now.
The heating is on low, and the air smells faintly of clean metal and old upholstery. There is one other person in this carriage, four rows up, asleep with a coat over their knees.
Let your thumbs rest where they landed. Your jaw can drop slightly. Let your teeth part.
Every so often the wheels change their note as they cross a join in the rail. The lights along the aisle are dimmed to the colour of weak tea.
Let your toes stop holding on to anything. Let your hands be completely still.
The rhythm underneath you is steady enough to lean on. Your bag is wedged under the seat in front, out of the way of your feet.
Let the mattress take all of it. Let your forearms get heavy and warm.
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.
If your mind has wandered, that's not a mistake. Noticing is the practice. Notice any tension that arrived while you weren't looking.
Let everything you were holding today stay on the floor beside the bed. Now feel your whole body at once, lying here, being held up.
Nothing needs deciding tonight. Sleep.
Let the next part go past without you. You can stop listening properly. Let the thoughts come and go without you getting up to answer.
Just the dark. Let your attention settle somewhere low, like your feet. Let it all get further away.
Get a blanket first. Being cold defeats the point.
The end. Sleep well.
21 paragraphs, roughly 3 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for travel, cozy.
If this story does not settle you, try The night train (a sleep story), when you are cold and want to be warm — for waking too early, The night train, when you need to stop thinking about work — for a night when you do not want to think or Sleep story: a boat at anchor, when you are not in the mood — for a racing mind.