Sleep story · travel, cozy
The night train, when you need to stop thinking about work — for a night when you do not want to think
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
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. The train left a quarter of an hour ago, and the carriage has already settled into its own quiet.
The rhythm underneath you is steady enough to lean on. The lights along the aisle are dimmed to the colour of weak tea. A station passes without stopping — a platform, a lamp, three empty benches, then dark again.
Feel the weight of your head on the pillow. Feel your heartbeat somewhere far away.
Your ankles can go loose now. Feel your cheeks let go.
The heating is on low, and the air smells faintly of clean metal and old upholstery. The seat reclines one notch further than you expected it to.
Feel your heels sink a little into the mattress. Feel your wrists loosen.
Let your lower back sink down into the mattress. Let everything you were holding today stay on the floor beside the bed.
The window is cool against the side of your face. Outside, the fields go past without anything in them you need to see.
If you're irritated, that's allowed. Irritation is just weather. Notice if your attention is in the future. Bring it back to the room.
Your elbows can stop being hinges for now. Feel the weight of the blanket on your legs.
Stay with the weight of your body. Slower.
Let the sound of this go soft at the edges. Slower now. Let them.
Work thoughts are allowed to be there. They just do not get to drive.
I will stop here. The quiet will carry on without the words.
14 paragraphs, roughly 2 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for travel, cozy.