Sleep story · travel, cozy
The night train, when you feel restless rather than tired — for waking too early
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 window is cool against the side of your face. 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.
Somewhere ahead of you, a door opens and closes with a soft, deliberate sound. 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.
Let your tongue sit heavy in your mouth. Let the back of your neck lengthen out.
Your chest can be still now. Let your shoulder blades spread out and drop.
The seat reclines one notch further than you expected it to. The heating is on low, and the air smells faintly of clean metal and old upholstery.
Feel the back of your knees soften into the bed. Now feel your whole body at once, lying here, being held up.
Feel your heartbeat somewhere far away. Let your forearms get heavy and warm.
Outside, the fields go past without anything in them you need to see. Every so often the wheels change their note as they cross a join in the rail.
Let your thumbs rest where they landed. Let your lower back sink down into the mattress.
There is one other person in this carriage, four rows up, asleep with a coat over their knees. The lights along the aisle are dimmed to the colour of weak tea.
Notice the places where your body touches the bed, and let them be heavy. Feel your heels sink a little into the mattress.
Somewhere ahead of you, a door opens and closes with a soft, deliberate sound. Every so often the wheels change their note as they cross a join in the rail.
Feel the top of your head relax into the pillow. Feel the weight of the blanket on your legs.
The window is cool against the side of your face. Outside, the fields go past without anything in them you need to see.
Notice if you're waiting for something to happen. Nothing is scheduled. If you're judging your performance, that's the same habit as judging everything else.
Your eyelids can be too heavy to open, and that is fine. Feel your cheeks let go.
Let the breath be the only thing you are doing. You can stop listening properly.
Just the breath. Softer. They will find their own way out.
Follow the breath out, and let the next one arrive by itself. The words can start to blur now. Just the weight.
Restless is different from tired, and it needs a different approach.
Goodnight. There is nothing left to do.
21 paragraphs, roughly 4 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for travel, cozy.
If this story does not settle you, try An attic room (a sleep story), when you are not sure this will work — for the hours after a late shift, A field under snow, when you cannot concentrate on anything else — for winding down or The night train — a slow story for the end of the day, when you cannot concentrate on anything else — for a restless night.