A Peaceful Bedtime Story: Village Stay In Transylvania

This is a Calming, Sleepy Story, written and narrated by me. Tonight, we'll journey to the heart of rural Transylvania, where time slows down and peace embraces the soul: Join me as I explore a serene, and small Saxon village in this magical part of the world, as I walk through lush gardens with Timmy and Hans, enjoy morning yoga on the wooden deck, and feel the connection to the ancient, untouched landscape that surrounds us.

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.

As you might know,

I love Transylvania.

Yes,

It is a real place,

And it's where I've been living for the last little while,

For it is where my wife is from,

And it's a place that I love deeply.

In tonight's sleep story,

I will tell you about a holiday that I am currently on,

And I will tell you about the relaxing days I have in this magical,

Rural place.

This place that feels like visiting a time long forgotten in a beautiful Saxon village in a wonderful part of Transylvania.

And just to tell you,

All of the sound effects in tonight's sleep story were recorded by me here at this house in Transylvania.

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 10 to 1,

And as I do,

Allow yourself to let go more and more.

10.

Feel the support of the bed beneath you,

Or the floor,

Or whatever you lie upon tonight.

11.

And beneath whatever you lie upon,

Feel the ever-present support of the Earth,

Our home,

Our constant support.

12.

And with the knowledge of that support now,

The awareness of it,

See if you can allow yourself to let go a little bit more now,

To soften a little bit more now,

To ease into this moment a little bit more now.

9.

You are safe.

Allow my voice to be a friend tonight,

An anchor of safety,

An anchor of trust that will only ever take you to safe places.

And with this knowledge,

With this safety,

Ease more into this moment,

This moment of peace,

This moment of rest,

This moment that is yours.

Peace lives within you.

It is a constant friend,

A constant friend,

For it is always there,

Just waiting to be seen,

Waiting to be heard,

Waiting to be felt.

See if you can find your constant friend tonight,

And if you do,

Where does it dwell within you?

And when you find it,

See if you can feel it throughout yourself,

Both in your body and in your mind.

8.

The day is done.

Whatever has been,

Has been.

Whatever will be,

Will be.

Just let go now.

9.

Whatever thoughts you might have about what has been,

Or whatever thoughts you might have about what will come,

In this moment,

The best way you can serve yourself is to see those thoughts.

Recognize them for what they are,

Thoughts,

And not you,

And let them go,

For they will still be there tomorrow.

So,

Watch them float away now,

Like clouds in a starlit sky,

Or leaves on a moonlit river.

6.

This is your moment.

This is your time.

Enjoy that fact.

Enjoy that you have nowhere to be,

And by moving towards rest and sleep now,

You are doing the best possible thing you can for yourself.

Perhaps,

Allow a little coziness in this moment,

A feeling that because this is your moment,

That you move a little bit more under the covers,

A little bit more of a feeling of warmth.

Feel into your body now,

See where you are still holding.

Maybe it's in your feet.

Maybe it's in your lower legs.

Maybe it's in your belly.

Maybe it's in your chest.

Maybe your hands.

Or maybe,

Your face.

Your body has worked hard for you today.

It's time to let it rest.

4.

Perhaps,

Allow a little gratitude now.

Gratitude for the simple things.

Gratitude for the shelter you have tonight.

Gratitude for life.

Gratitude for those you care about.

3.

Begin to engage with your imagination now.

Begin to see a charming little village on a summer's morning with green hills surrounding it.

A pure,

Simple,

Beautiful place.

2.

Checking in one more time now.

3.

Releasing any tension.

1.

Completely letting go now,

As I tell you tonight's sleep story.

I'm in Transylvania.

You might already know this,

But it's my adopted home.

My wife is from here,

And I do love it here.

We are visiting a very rural place at the moment.

We have rented a house for a month.

A fine,

Old house.

A house that would be called by the locals a Saxon house.

The house is hundreds of years old.

The Saxons were sent here many,

Many hundreds of years ago to protect these lands by the kings of the time.

And they stayed,

And they built communities,

And they left a legacy of beautiful villages dotted around Transylvania.

I discovered this part of the world through my wife's sister,

Who lives here all the time.

And when I first came here,

I felt like I was walking back in time.

I have felt drawn to the area.

So much so,

That we decided to come here for a month.

And so,

Allow me tonight to share with you a day in my life that I spent in this old and beautiful house.

After settling in,

After a number of days it must be said,

I have got into a routine of sorts.

I say it took me a number of days to settle in,

Because it took me time to become used to the slowness of this place.

The slowness of the pace of life.

The freedom,

In a way,

To just be.

Be.

Yes,

I have some work to do.

But it's summertime,

And I have slowed down a little.

My days begin by walking through the big garden with Timmy the dog,

Who joins the day at the same time as me.

And another dog that lives here all the time,

Called Hans.

He is a big,

Fluffy sheepdog.

The lady who owns the house tells us that Hans just arrived one day,

When he was only a baby.

She let him in,

And he never left.

I think he's about two or three now.

And in a funny way,

As my wife Rebecca said,

He kind of looks like the house.

And so,

I walk with Timmy and Hans down through the garden,

Past the outbuildings,

Past the outside kitchen,

Or the summer kitchen,

As Transylvanians call it.

And I enter what is known as the shura,

A big barn at the end of the garden.

It is here,

Behind the shura,

That there is a deck,

A wooden deck that overlooks a vegetable garden.

Here,

I have my trusty yoga mat,

And here,

I greet the day.

I start with 20 minutes of yoga.

I follow by watching instructions on my phone.

A different class each morning.

I follow the movements,

And I breathe into each one.

I enjoy the stretching.

What a wonderful way to start the day.

And to end it,

For that matter.

I have been doing yoga for many years,

And I think,

In a way,

It saved me.

For my body is,

Let's just say,

Tense.

And yoga allows me to find freedom.

All it is,

Really,

Is stretching.

Ancient stretching,

I suppose,

But stretching nonetheless.

As I stretch,

I listen to the birds,

To the bees,

To the life of the tiny village,

The odd horse and carriage trotting by,

The odd tractor in a field.

The odd crow of a rooster,

The odd dog barking.

But when I say I listen,

I really listen.

I try to forget the story of me,

The everything that I carry,

The past,

The future.

I move in the moment.

I move with the moment.

I listen to the moment.

I am not perfect at this.

I never will be.

At this age of 40,

That it's okay to not be perfect,

To never be perfect.

For it is an illusion,

The idea of perfect.

As I age,

I find the ability to be kind to myself.

For I have learned that from that kindness,

My ability to be kind to others is stronger.

Sure,

I have the ability and the natural inclination to be kind,

But I don't always realize it,

Unless I'm kind to myself first.

I finish the yoga by lying on my back,

Enjoying the rewards that working a little bit has given me,

That natural high.

And I step into the shura then,

Into the barn.

I bear feet,

Meet the gravel floor,

And I enjoy the feeling of these little stones against my feet.

I am far from any beach in this moment,

But in some ways,

This bare-footed connection reminds me of that kind of connection.

And now,

I find my seat.

The seat I sit on every morning here.

That looks out through the back of the barn,

Onto the vegetable garden,

And the little dusty track that passes by the house.

That little track,

That when you look upon it,

It looks like a road from 300 years ago.

I think it is a road from 300 years ago,

Or more,

And it hasn't changed much,

I would imagine.

And I sit,

And now it is time for me to meditate.

I have had my moving meditation.

Now,

I will sit in stillness.

This is another practice I have been doing for many years.

It is the practice that enables me to do my work,

To feel like I can come towards my work with a sense of understanding of what I need to convey.

I sit,

And begin.

This will be for 20 minutes,

That I focus on my breath,

Or indeed,

On the sounds around me.

I generally prefer the breath,

Though.

It's rhythmic,

And out.

I feel safe in this moment.

I feel cared for.

I feel connected to myself,

And to the world around me.

Of course,

Thoughts come and go.

And of course,

I'm not perfect at this.

And a lot of the time,

I follow the thoughts,

And then I remember to come back to the breath,

Into a flow.

Into a rhythm.

I can nearly forget myself,

And just sit there,

As pure consciousness,

A witnessing being.

Here on this planet,

Ready to listen,

Ready to breathe,

Ready to hear,

Ready to see.

And sometimes,

I think,

Why do I do this?

What's the point in sitting in silence?

It helps me to separate myself from my thoughts,

To know that if I think a sad thought,

It doesn't mean I have to feel sad,

Doesn't mean I have to do anything.

I am not my thoughts.

I continue to notice my breath,

And soon,

My meditation is over.

I then walk back through the garden,

Noticing the beauty of the green grass,

The plum tree,

The apple tree,

I walk up the steps to the porch,

The wooden porch,

Or terrace,

Or veranda,

Call it what you will,

And I light a candle,

And some incense,

And I take out my well-worn journal,

I set a timer,

And I begin to write.

While I'm writing,

I dwell on whatever is on my mind,

Whether it be something I need to get out of my head,

Or something that happened the day before,

Or something I've been writing for years,

And I have many journals.

I always use the same type,

And they are a great record to have of how far I've come.

I can measure my growth,

Through my journals,

I can see where my mind was at 10 years ago,

And I love that guy who I was.

He was trying his best,

Just like I am now,

But it was more difficult then.

I learned all the tools that I need to carry,

But I suppose that comes with a bit of age,

A bit of wisdom,

And of course,

Work.

I finish journaling,

And it's time for food.

I enjoy a coffee on the terrace,

Overlooking the garden,

And some nourishing food,

Be it eggs,

Or whatever else takes my fancy.

I love food.

My wife,

Rebecca,

Opened the world of food up to me,

In a way I had never known before.

You see,

Here in Transylvania,

People are still very connected to the land,

In a way that other nations have lost.

People grow their own food in abundance,

Not just a token tomato plant here and there,

But really live off their gardens.

Rebecca's mother,

For instance,

Makes all sorts of beautiful jars of food that she will keep in her betch or basement throughout the winter.

It's a life I didn't even know existed until I met Rebecca.

And when you see food growing like this,

And used like this,

You become conscious of the nourishment it provides,

I love life.

I love being alive,

Whether it be a good day or a bad day.

I embrace it.

And eating well makes me stronger in that regard.

My brain functions better.

I sleep better.

And so I notice the food that I eat.

I think of where it came from,

The process that got it to my plate.

And I feel grateful for this food that I eat today.

After breakfast,

I take the dogs for a walk.

Hans,

The big shaggy sheepdog,

And Timmy,

My little dog.

Who is also a kind of a sheepdog.

I put them on the lead,

And I walk out with them through the great old wooden gates.

We walk up the little road that runs through the village.

I greet the villagers,

Who often sit outside their homes under the trees.

Normally,

Elderly ladies and elderly men,

Enjoying these moments of peace.

The quiet of the village.

Hans and Timmy are such good friends now.

I think they love each other.

Timmy will be sad when we leave,

I think.

I walk and walk.

Hans is a lot stronger than Timmy,

And it's not easy handling two dogs.

One wants to smell one thing.

One wants to smell another.

But it works out okay.

Everyone knows we are strangers here.

But we are welcomed.

The people here are kind.

And I think they like us being here.

New people to talk about.

It's a place lost in time in many ways.

If you squint and kind of blink your eyes closed,

You can imagine yourself being back hundreds of years ago.

The energy feels the same,

I think.

It's unique here,

That's for sure.

I finish the walk with the dogs.

And today is a day I am taking off.

And so,

I begin to enjoy doing nothing.

And when I say nothing,

I mean pottering about,

Reading a book,

Taking a bath,

Looking at old photographs of the people who once lived here,

Doing research,

Calling family.

And that's pretty much how the day goes.

Until the heat of the day passes.

Oh,

And I take a nap.

A delicious nap.

For napping has become one of my favorite pastimes.

I normally do it around 3.

30 in the day.

So,

The evening is now here.

And I'm back sitting on the porch with Rebecca.

We are sitting in that comfortable silence,

Reading our books,

Timmy and Hans at our feet.

The first stars are coming out,

And the first little crickets are beginning their song.

And there is a peace in my heart.

A feeling that has been kind to me,

Because I began to be kind to myself,

Because I started to understand.

What being kind to myself meant,

Through those things that I did throughout the day.

The stretching,

The movement,

The meditation,

The writing,

The walking,

The resting,

The reading,

The listening,

The noticing.

They all added up,

And led to love,

And led to peace,

And led to calm.

And yes,

It's not perfect,

But it never should be,

And it never will be.

But it is what it is,

And the more I sit with it,

The more kind I can be inside and out.

We decide to go down and light the outside fire.

The dogs follow us,

And we sit and watch.

As the little flame grows,

And the stars shine bright down upon us,

And we talk,

And we listen,

And we sit in gratitude.

We're in a very comfortable and cozy time in this Transylvanian Saxon home.

Reviews

Absolutely felt like I was there 🙏❤️

This is such a beautiful, really interesting village story especially sharing it with us listeners about your month away with Rebecca & family in this heavenly hideaway Transylvania …aren’t we just the lucky ones. Thank you so much Namaste 🙏🏻❤️

Stephen, I sure love your stories. I love the depth and the layering. The lovely pictures you paint with words, the soundscapes you record and the cadence of delivery make for such an immersive experience. Transylvania sounds enchanting! Have you written of Scotland or of castles? Mary