A Cozy Drive Through Misty Ireland: A Soothing Sleep Story

This is a Calming, Sleepy Story, written and narrated by me. Tonight, we’ll journey to the misty valleys of Ireland, where you’ll embark on a tranquil drive through the countryside in your own campervan. As rain gently taps on the roof and the mist rolls over the hills, you’ll discover the serene beauty of Ireland’s west: Feel the peaceful rhythm of the van beneath you, and allow the calming landscape to lull you into a restful sleep.
Narration and Sound Design by Stephen Dalton

Transcript

Hello,

My friend.

Welcome to your sleep story.

My name is Stephen Dalton.

I'm an Irish storyteller.

And it's my great privilege to be the voice that you listen to as you go to sleep tonight.

In tonight's story,

We return to my homeland of Ireland.

It's a cozy drive through the southwest of Ireland.

You will be in your very own campervan,

Driving through the rain and the mist and observing the magical land of Ireland from a cozy place.

I really enjoyed writing this one,

Thinking about my homeland and thinking about that western side of the country.

Really,

There is nowhere else on Earth like it.

Okay,

Let's do the relaxation session now,

Which will take a few minutes before tonight's sleep story.

I'm going to count down from ten to one.

And as I do,

Allow yourself to let go more and more.

Ten.

Eleven.

Feel the support of the bed beneath you,

Or the floor,

Or whatever you lie upon tonight.

And beneath that,

Feel the support of our planet holding you,

Supporting you,

Keeping you safe.

And with that awareness of that support,

See if you can let go a little bit more now.

Loosen any tension a little bit more now.

Nine.

You are safe.

Allow my voice to be an anchor of safety tonight,

To be a friend,

To be a voice of trust,

Trust in the fact that I will only ever bring you to safe places.

Feel into your body now.

Feel where you still might be holding.

Maybe it's in your feet,

Maybe in your lower legs,

Maybe in your belly,

Perhaps in your chest,

Your hands even,

Or your face.

I know I hold in my face.

Just soften now.

Just let go.

Seven.

The day is done.

Whatever has been,

Has been.

Whatever will be,

Will be.

Whatever thoughts you might be having about tomorrow,

About today,

About anything,

They are not so useful now.

They do not serve you,

But do not fight them.

See them for what they are.

Just thoughts,

Coming and going,

Part of being a human.

And gently let them go now.

See them floating away,

Like clouds passing in a starlit sky,

Or leaves floating down.

This is your moment.

This is your time.

You have nowhere to go right now.

Nowhere to be.

Allow that fact to enable you to sink deeper into this moment.

Allow that fact to bring about more softening,

More peace in this moment.

Perhaps allow a little gratitude now.

Gratitude for the shelter you have tonight,

For the opportunity of rest,

For the simple things,

Your breath,

Your body,

And those you love,

For peace lives within you.

It is always there,

Just waiting to be found,

Waiting to be seen,

Waiting to be felt.

See if you can find that peace tonight.

See if you can feel it.

Three.

Begin to engage with your imagination now.

Begin to see a winding,

Beautiful road running through a valley,

An Irish mist surrounding you,

But you can make out mountains and sheep and the verdant green of the land.

Begin to feel the peace of this place.

Two.

Now,

Checking in with your body one more time now.

Your body has worked hard for you today.

It's time to give it rest,

Completely letting go now.

As I tell you tonight's sleep story,

You are driving through Ireland,

The misty ancient land of timeless folklore and beautiful traditions.

The air outside is crisp and cool and the gentle fall of the landscape feels like a lullaby,

Guiding you deeper into this peaceful journey.

You are in the west of Ireland,

Where the traditions of the land still hum in the air and in some places,

The melodic sound of Gaelic can be heard,

Flowing like an old song on the wind.

The campervan hums softly beneath your hands.

It is a comforting presence.

It almost has its own personality.

The road curves gently before you,

Framed by rolling hills,

Draped in mist.

As you drive,

The world outside seems to blur into a painting.

The mist settles low,

Weaving in and out of the hills,

While the rugged terrain peaks through in soft shades of green and grey.

The green in Ireland is no cliché.

It is a green you will have never seen.

Here and there,

Stone walls appear,

Ancient and moss-covered,

Marking boundaries that have stood for centuries.

The rain begins as a light drizzle,

The soft patter on the roof of the van,

Like a rhythmic heartbeat.

Each drop is a reminder of the life this beautiful land holds,

The constant cycle of nature that continues,

Undisturbed by time.

The narrow road meanders alongside a river,

Its waters flowing gently over smooth stones,

Clear and dark,

Like a mirror reflecting the misty sky above.

The landscape is quiet,

Except for the occasional call of a bird in the distance,

A lone note carried on the breeze.

Here,

You are far away from all that you know.

You glance out the window and see a herd of sheep grazing on the slopes,

Their wool dampened by the mist.

Yet they seem entirely at peace,

Moving slowly,

Unhurried.

This place feels like a world untouched.

This place is special.

Arlen's West is known for its wild beauty,

A place where legends seem as real as the mountains themselves,

And as you drive deeper into the valley,

You think of the stories passed down through generations,

The ancient tales,

The mythical beings who were said to dwell in these hills long ago.

It's easy to imagine them here,

In the quiet folds of the land,

Hidden beneath the mist.

The camper van glides slowly along the road,

And you feel a sense of calm settle over you,

As if the mountains are protecting you,

Keeping you safe.

The rain begins to pick up,

But only slightly,

The droplets larger now,

As they tap against the windshield.

You reach out and adjust the wipers,

Their slow,

Steady movement,

Adding another layer of rhythm to this cozy journey.

You take a deep breath here,

The air inside the van is filled with the earthy scent of rain,

And the faint aroma of the tea you brewed earlier.

It's still warm,

Sitting in the cup holder beside you,

A small comfort on this quiet drive through Ireland's serene,

Mist-filled mountains.

The road ahead continues to wind its way through the valley,

Flanked by towering cliffs that rise steeply from the mist.

These mountains,

Part of the MacGillicuddy's Reeks,

Are the highest in Ireland,

Their peaks often hidden in a veil of fog that drifts in from the Atlantic.

These ancient rocks,

Old stories of their own,

They are shaped by centuries of wind and rain,

And they,

In a way,

Feel like silent friends on this epic drive of yours.

The landscape opens up a little now,

Revealing glistening streams that cut through the earth,

Carving their way down from the mountains.

You pass a small lake,

Its surface rippling gently under the touch of the rain.

The water is dark,

Almost black,

Yet there's something inviting about it,

As though it holds secrets beneath its stillness.

Locks,

As they're called here,

Are scattered throughout Ireland,

Each one a quiet oasis amidst this rugged and wild terrain.

This one seems untouched,

The banks lined with reeds that sway gently in the wind.

You can almost hear the ancient voices,

The echoes of ancient clans that once lived by these waters.

As the road curves again,

You notice the landscape changing.

The soft,

Rolling hills give way to patches of rocky ground,

Where the earth seems more rugged,

Untamed,

Almost lunar in appearance.

Small patches of heather dot the landscape,

Their purple blooms vibrant against the grey-green backdrop of the valley.

This part of the West is known for its hardy beauty,

A place where only the strongest plants and animals thrive.

The Burren,

A limestone plateau further north,

Is known for its unique geology,

A vast expanse of cracked stone that also seems lunar in its own way.

You drive past the ruins of an old stone cottage,

Its walls crumbling but still standing.

Many such structures dot the Irish landscape,

Remnants of a time when families lived off the land,

Tending sheep and growing crops in the fertile soil.

The cottage is barely visible through the mist,

But you can imagine the lives once lived within its walls.

Simple,

Quiet lives.

Much like your own journey now,

With nothing but the sound of the rain and the hum of the van to keep you company.

Further down the road,

You see a sign for a nearby village,

Though it's still some distance away.

In this part of Ireland,

Villages are few and far between,

Small clusters of houses nestled in the valleys,

Where time moves at its own pace,

Where people sometimes say there is no fear of the clock.

You can picture it already,

A handful of stone cottages with thatched roofs,

A small pub with a crackling fire inside,

And the locals gathered around,

Speaking in the lilting tones of the Irish language.

You drive on,

Letting the thoughts of these quiet places linger in your mind as the rain continues to fall,

A steady,

Calming presence.

The day begins to shift.

They do say in Ireland that you can have four seasons in a day.

The mist thins slightly,

And the rain softens slightly,

But not much.

As you drive deeper into the valley,

You notice a figure up ahead on the side of the road,

Walking slowly along the path with a small flock of sheep.

The shepherd wears a woollen cap and a weathered coat,

His movements deliberate and unhurried.

As though time here is measured not in minutes,

But in the rhythm of the land.

As you approach,

He looks up and offers you a warm wave,

His face breaking into a friendly smile beneath the brim of his cap.

You return the gesture,

A feeling of connection stirring within you.

Even in this remote place,

Miles from any town or bustling city,

The warmth of the people is ever-present,

Even more so,

Perhaps.

It's said that the Irish are known for their hospitality,

And even the simplest of greetings,

Like this one,

Carries a sense of kindness and belonging.

Further along,

You see another figure,

This time a jogger,

Moving at a steady pace along the narrow road.

Dressed in bright colours that stand out against the muted tones of the landscape,

They glance over you as you pass,

Their face bright with a smile,

And wave cheerfully.

Once again,

You return the gesture,

Feeling the subtle joy of these brief,

Shared moments.

There's something comforting in connecting with other humans in this way,

Knowing that there's always someone around,

Some safety,

Someone to call upon if needed.

The presence of others,

Even just in passing,

Adds to the sense of peace and belonging that this journey offers.

The clouds overhead begin to shift,

Allowing small patches of pale light to filter through.

It rains still,

But somehow you see a little bit of blue shining through.

This is Ireland,

After all.

The late afternoon brings a gentle shift in the mood of the landscape.

You can see the outlines of the hills more clearly now,

Their rugged shapes etched against the sky,

Though still softened by the mist that never truly leaves this place.

As you continue your drive,

The road begins to rise slightly,

Giving you a higher vantage point over the valley.

From here,

You can see more details,

The stone walls crisscrossing the hillsides,

Dividing the land into neat,

Ancient plots,

The small clusters of trees swaying gently in the breeze,

And the winding rivers glittering faintly in the distance.

Here and there,

More figures appear,

Farmers tending their land,

A lone walker with a dog,

Children playing near a cluster of cottages.

Each wave,

Each friendly glance exchanged,

Adds to the warmth you feel inside.

The day continues its slow,

Peaceful progression,

And the light begins to change as evening approaches.

You take it all in,

The rain,

The mountains,

The occasional other person,

And perhaps you feel at home here.

You pull the camper van into the side of the road for a minute,

Just to sit in the stillness and watch through the odd gap in the cloud the first stars appearing of this night in Ireland.

You think about the history of this place,

Not just the land,

But the people.

The Irish are known for their resilience,

A people who have faced hardship throughout the centuries,

But have always found joy in the simplest things,

Music,

Storytelling,

And laughter.

In the darkest of times,

There was always a song to sing,

A tale to tell,

Or a dance to share.

Even now,

Perhaps you can feel that lightness in the air,

The joy that lingers,

Despite the quietness of the landscape,

As you prepare to drive on in the distance,

Behind a mountain,

Where the clouds have cleared slightly,

The moon is rising,

And oh,

How beautiful it is,

A private show that feels like it is just for you,

And feel the calm of the moment,

The safety and beauty of this land wrapping around you like the comforting embrace of an old friend.

You continue driving now,

Through the quiet valley,

Feeling the gentle hum of the camper van beneath you.

The rain still falls,

And the road ahead narrows slightly,

And you notice a small clearing off to the side,

A perfect spot to park for the night.

You guide the van off the road and onto the grassy verge,

The tires crunching softly over the earth.

The clearing overlooks a quiet stretch of the valley,

Framed by low trees and distant hills,

This space feels private,

Safe,

Tucked away from the world,

As though it were meant just for you.

You switch off the engine,

And for a moment,

The silence is profound,

Only the gentle patter of the last raindrops on the roof and the distant call of a bird breaks the stillness.

Inside the van,

The cozy warmth greets you like an old friend.

You take a moment to light a small lantern,

Its soft golden glow filling the space with a comforting warmth.

The van is your little haven amidst the wild beauty outside.

You move about slowly,

Savoring the peaceful routine of preparing for the night.

First,

You boil some water on the small stove,

The sound of it bubbling quietly in the background as you unpack a few essentials,

A warm blanket,

Your favorite mug,

And a small,

Well-worn book you brought along for the journey.

There's no rush,

No need to hurry through these small,

Comforting tasks.

As the water boils,

You make yourself a cup of herbal tea,

The soothing aroma of chamomile and lavender rising with the steam,

Filling the air with a calming scent.

You sit by the window,

Sipping slowly,

Watching as the last light of day fades into twilight.

The mist still clings to the trees and hills,

But now,

With the setting sun,

It glows faintly as though the land itself is illuminated from within.

After finishing your tea,

You set the cup down and begin to prepare your bed for the night.

The van is small,

But perfectly suited to your needs.

A warm,

Comfortable space that feels like home.

You arrange the soft blankets and pillows,

Creating a cozy nest.

The rhythm of your movements,

The familiar routine of settling in for the evening,

Fills you with a sense of contentment.

The world outside is still.

The only sound,

The rain falling from above,

And you feel utterly at peace,

Ready for a long,

Restful night ahead.

Lying back,

You pull the blankets up to your chin,

Sinking deeper into the softness of the bed.

Your body feels heavy,

Relaxed,

As if the day has melted away,

Leaving only a gentle calm.

And you feel yourself beginning to drift,

The last remnants of the day slowly dissolving As sleep begins to pull you in,

As your eyelids grow heavier,

You can feel the peaceful weight of rest settling over you.

The world outside fades into the quiet hum of the night,

And with a final sigh,

You let go,

Allowing yourself to drift fully into the peaceful embrace of sleep.

The van cradles you,

Safe and warm,

As you slip into dreams,

Wrapped in the comforting calm of this quiet,

Misty Irish valley.

And as you sleep,

The valley rests too,

The mist,

The rain and the mountains all protecting you at the end of this magical day.

Reviews

So relaxing 🙏

Magical.