Sleep story · travel, cozy
The night train (a sleep story), when you want to finish something — 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
Somewhere ahead of you, a door opens and closes with a soft, deliberate sound. The train left a quarter of an hour ago, and the carriage has already settled into its own quiet. There is one other person in this carriage, four rows up, asleep with a coat over their knees.
A station passes without stopping — a platform, a lamp, three empty benches, then dark again. The heating is on low, and the air smells faintly of clean metal and old upholstery. Every so often the wheels change their note as they cross a join in the rail.
Let your lower back sink down into the mattress. Let the pillow take the whole weight of your head.
Let your forehead go cool and smooth. Let your thumbs rest where they landed.
Outside, the fields go past without anything in them you need to see. Your bag is wedged under the seat in front, out of the way of your feet.
Let your toes stop holding on to anything. Let your palms open if they were closed.
Let the space between your eyebrows smooth out. Feel the weight of your head on the pillow.
The rhythm underneath you is steady enough to lean on. The window is cool against the side of your face.
Feel your belly rise and fall without any help from you. Let the back of your neck lengthen out.
The seat reclines one notch further than you expected it to. The lights along the aisle are dimmed to the colour of weak tea.
Let your tongue sit heavy in your mouth. Feel the top of your head relax into the pillow.
If you've lost track of where we were, you haven't lost anything important. Notice if you've been frowning at your own thoughts.
Your elbows can stop being hinges for now. Feel the weight of the blanket on your legs.
Slower now. Let them.
Just the breath. Almost nothing to do now. Nothing here needs following closely.
Let it all get further away. Softer. Let your breathing do the rest.
Wanting to finish something is a better motivation than wanting to relax.
I will stop here. The quiet will carry on without the words.
18 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), if you are tired of apps — for winding down, Sleep story: an attic room, when you need something unremarkable — for waking too early or An attic room, if you are doing this instead of scrolling — for waking too early.