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 know,
I often look through your comments,
And one thing that is very human about us all is that we all have bad days,
And after having one myself,
I decided to write a story that would bring about some healing for you,
And for me actually,
From a difficult day.
This story will meet a woman who is going home by train in the evening.
Mulling things over,
When she meets a kind and wise stranger who offers her some solace,
And I hope will offer you some too.
Okay,
Let's do the relaxation session first,
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.
10.
Feel the support.
Of the bed beneath you.
Or the floor.
Or whatever you lie upon tonight.
And beneath what you lie upon.
Feel a deeper support.
The support of the earth.
Our home.
Our constant support.
And as you become aware of that support,
See if you can.
.
.
Sink into this moment a little more now.
Jess.
Let go.
A little more now.
Nein.
You.
.
.
Are safe.
Allow my voice.
To be an anchor of safety tonight.
To be a friend.
To be a gentle guide.
A guide that only ever brings you to safe places.
To warm and cozy places.
To places that enable and support your sleep.
Trust.
That my voice.
.
.
Is a friend tonight.
Feel into your body now.
Notice where you might still be holding tonight.
Notice where you may have pain.
Or tingling.
Retention.
Notice anything.
Maybe you feel something in your feet.
Or in your lower legs Resize.
Or your belly.
Your chest.
Shoulders.
Your neck You're back.
Arms.
Hands.
Or maybe you're like me.
And you hold tension in your face.
Just see if you can soften a little now.
This is a time.
For kindness.
To yourself.
And to your body.
Seven.
The day.
Is.
.
.
Whatever has been.
Has been Whatever will be.
Will be.
But right now.
.
.
All you have is this moment.
Your thoughts can't change what has gone before.
Your thoughts can't change.
What will come tomorrow?
Your brain.
.
.
Needs rest now.
So as thoughts come and go now.
Don't fight them.
Don't chase them away.
See them for what they are.
So much.
Then just.
.
.
Watch them go.
Like leaves.
Floating away.
On a moonlit river.
A cloud.
Passing through a starlit sky.
6.
This is your moment.
This.
Is your time.
You have earned this moment of kindness to yourself.
You deserve.
To have peace in your life.
We all do.
So,
As you become aware of that fact as you come to the understanding.
That we all deserve peace.
See.
If you can settle into this moment.
.
.
A little more now.
Letting your body know.
That it's really time for rest.
Five.
Peace.
Lives within you.
It is a constant friend.
Waiting to be found.
Waiting to be felt.
Where does it live within you?
Maybe it's in your heart.
Maybe it's in your head.
It's up to you to find it.
But I promise you it's there.
Perhaps allow a little gratitude now.
Gratitude.
For the simple things.
For your body.
For the shelter you have tonight.
For the ones you love.
And who love you.
For the beauty and wonder of this world.
Of this planet.
That you can find.
When you look for it.
3.
Begin to engage with your imagination now.
Begin to see a train.
It's dimly lit.
A nice,
Soft glow through the carriage leather seats.
A feeling of being from the past.
With wooden doors.
And it's warm.
The rain is falling outside.
The train is moving on.
Evening time.
And sitting there,
Is a woman.
It was just.
.
.
Starting to let go of the day.
Checking in with your body one more time now.
Finding the places you are holding still.
And allowing yourself to give in.
To allow the tension to ease away Your body has worked hard for you today.
It's time.
To give it rest.
And one.
Completely letting go now.
As I tell you.
Tonight's sleep story.
She was already seated by the window by the time the train began to move.
The rain had started not long before.
Soft at first.
And now steady against the glass.
Drops gathered slowly.
Lingering for a moment.
Before slipping down and disappearing from view.
She watched them without really thinking.
Arise,
Following one.
Than another.
Not quite focusing on anything.
It had been a long day.
Not the kind you could easily explain.
Not one single thing that stood out above the rest.
Moments small moments.
That stayed longer than they should have.
A tone in someone's voice.
That felt a little too sharp.
Something she wished she'd said differently.
Or maybe not said at all.
And none of it was enough on its own.
Together.
They had followed her here.
Unto this quiet train.
Into this seat by the window.
Into the stillness she now found herself in.
She let out a slow breath.
Almost without noticing it.
And watched the rain continue Its quiet journey down the glass The train moved steadily on.
It's quiet rhythm Currying her forward.
Through the darkening evening.
Outside.
The rain continued.
Soft and patient.
As though it had nowhere else it needed to be.
She shifted slightly in her seat.
Drawing her coat a little closer around her.
And again.
Her mind returned to the day.
Not clearly.
Not in any kind of order.
Small pieces.
Drifting in and out.
A moment where she hadn't been heard.
Her words falling flat.
Or perhaps not landing at all.
Another.
Where something simple had been met with impatience.
As though she had Somehow asked for too much without meaning to.
And then that Quiet,
Familiar feeling.
Of wondering.
Just for a second.
If she had gotten something wrong.
If she had said too much.
Oh,
Too little.
Or simply not been quite right.
She didn't try to answer any of it.
She just.
.
.
Let the search come.
And go.
Like the rain on the window beside her.
There is nothing to solve here.
Nothing to fix in this moment.
Just the weight of a day.
That hadn't quite sat the way it should have.
And the quiet space of the evening.
Beginning around her.
The train slowed slightly.
A soft shift beneath her.
As it passed through a small,
Dimly lit station.
The door is opened with a gentle sound.
And after a moment Someone stepped inside.
She didn't look up at first.
Only when she heard the faint movement beside her the careful way someone settled into the seat nearby.
Then her attention shifted.
An older man had taken the place across from her.
There was nothing unusual about him.
Something about his presence.
Felt calm.
And hurry.
He adjusted his coat slightly.
Rested his hands loosely in his lap.
And for a whirl.
He said nothing at all.
For a moment.
She simply became aware of him.
Not in a sharp way.
Not with curiosity or concern.
Just a quiet noticing.
And without quite understanding why.
Something in her began to soften The tightness she had been holding,
So quietly she hadn't even named it.
Seemed to ease.
Just a little.
She lifted her eyes.
Only slightly.
Just enough to take him in.
He looked to be older.
Though it was hard to say exactly how much.
There was a gentleness in his face.
The kind that comes not from ease.
But from having lived through things and come out the other side without hardening.
His hair was light.
Touched with grey and a little unkempt.
As though he hadn't paid it much attention.
You wore a simple coat,
Well worn.
Comfortable.
The kind of thing chosen for warmth rather than appearance.
And his hands Resting loosely together in his lap.
We're.
.
.
Still.
Not stiff.
Not restless.
Still.
There was no sense of urgency about him.
No feeling that he needed to be anywhere else.
Or that this moment should be any different than it was.
And somehow.
.
.
That made everything feel a little easier to sit with.
He glanced toward her then.
Just briefly.
And offered a small quiet smile Nothing more.
No expectation behind it.
No question.
Just a simple acknowledgement.
She felt her breath shift.
Deeper now.
Slower.
As though her body had decided on its own.
That it was safe to rest here for a while.
There was a pause.
And then before she had quite decided to.
She found herself speaking.
Not all at once.
Not in a rush.
Just the beginning of something.
Is this one going all the way through?
She asked.
Or does it stop before that?
Her voice was light.
Just something to say.
He turned slightly.
Miss Moore.
Easy movement.
All the way through.
Bit of a long one.
She nodded.
A faint smile.
I wasn't sure.
A small pause settled between them.
Comfortable enough.
Do you take it often?
She asked after a moment.
From time to time,
He said,
Depends where I end up.
That brought the smallest hint of a smile from her.
I suppose that's the way of it.
She shifted slightly in her seat.
Tucking one foot in a little closer It's quite nice though She added.
Once you're on.
He nodded.
It is.
Another pause.
The kind that didn't need filling.
But gently allowed it anyway.
She let out a quiet breath.
Her eyes drifting back to the rain.
I think I needed this actually.
Not directed at him fully.
But not entirely to herself either.
Sitting.
He gave a small nod.
End of the day.
She replied softly.
The beat passed.
And sin.
Almost without deciding to.
.
.
She added.
It's strange.
How a day can just.
.
.
Feel a bit of She kept her eyes on the window as she said it.
Watching one drop of rain slowly find its way down the glass.
Nothing really happens.
She heard it.
Nothing that you could point to.
Small breath But it just doesn't sit right.
He didn't interrupt.
Just a quiet presence across from her.
Listening.
She shifted slightly in her seat.
I think it's the small things.
Someone being a bit sharp.
You say something and it comes out wrong.
Of fate.
Almost self-conscious smile.
Or at least.
.
.
It feels like it did.
She gave a tiny shrug.
And you tell yourself it's nothing.
Probably is nothing.
But it sort of.
.
.
Stays with you anyway.
The train carried on around them.
Steady.
And change.
And then.
.
.
By the end of the day.
She continued.
Her voice a little softer now.
You're not even thinking about any of it properly.
Her fingers moved lightly against each other.
Absently.
It's just this.
She let the word sit there.
A feeling.
No clear shape to it.
No single cause.
She glanced over at him briefly.
Almost as if to check she hadn't gone too far.
Sorry,
She said quietly.
I didn't mean to start going on.
A small,
Tired smile.
I think I just.
.
.
Didn't want to sit there with it in my own head.
This time.
When the silence came.
It felt shared.
He gave a small nod.
And hurry I know the kind of day you mean,
He said.
His voice was calm.
Certain.
But without any weight behind it.
As if nothing much happened.
Somehow.
It's all dead A slight pause.
Those ones can stay with you longer than the bigger days.
She let out a quiet breath.
Something in her.
Easing at that She said softly.
That's exactly it.
He rested back slightly in his seat.
His hands still loosely together.
It's a tiring thing.
He continued.
Carrying things that don't quite have a place to go.
You didn't answer straight away.
But her shoulders dropped just a little.
And for the first time since she had sat down.
The day seemed to loosen its hold on her.
Even if only by a small amount He watched her for a moment.
In a way that said he understood.
In a way that I felt like it was one human seeing another human.
In a kind and caring way.
There was a quiet steadiness in him.
Something settled.
When he spoke again.
His voice was still soft.
But there was a.
.
.
Clarity to it now.
A day like that.
He said.
Can leave you questioning yourself more than anything else.
She looked over at him.
Just slightly.
He met her glance.
Calmly.
Not because anything truly went wrong.
Continued.
But because nothing quite settled either.
And the mind doesn't like that.
It tries to.
.
.
Go back over everything.
Smooth it out.
Find where it slips.
He gave the faintest tint of a smile.
But most of the time.
.
.
There's nothing to fix.
She held his words quietly.
Not rushing to respond.
You were there,
He said simply.
You showed up.
You spoke.
You moved through your day.
His tone remained even but grounded.
And other people.
Were carrying their own things.
Their tone.
Their impatience.
The way something landed.
He shook his head.
Just a fraction.
Belongs to them.
More than it belongs to you.
We let out a slow breath.
As though something had just been set down.
Even if only for a moment.
But it's very easy.
He went on.
To gather all of that up.
Quietly turn it inward.
He glanced briefly toward the rain on the window.
Then back to her.
Begin wondering if you were the one who was off.
Or if you could have been.
A little better That's a heavy thing to carry.
Especially when it isn't yours to begin with.
She looked at him more fully now.
Not searching.
Just.
.
.
Listening.
And here you are.
He said.
His voice,
Softening again.
At the end of the day.
Still holding it.
But you.
.
.
Don't have to.
The words were simple.
But they landed differently.
Not as instruction.
Truths.
You can let today be what it was.
Unfinished.
A little untidy.
Not fully understood.
And still be completely.
.
.
All right.
The train moved on beneath them.
Steady.
Unchanged And for a moment.
.
.
She said nothing.
But something in her had shifted.
Not suddenly.
Not completely.
Just enough.
He was quiet for a moment.
As if considering whether to say anything more.
Then he gave a small breath.
Almost as soft.
Private love.
I remember a day like that.
He said.
She glanced at him.
A little more curious now.
I was younger,
He went on.
Travelling A long way from home.
His eyes drifted slightly.
Not away from her.
But somewhere soft.
Somewhere further back It was a small island.
He said.
Very warm.
Very still.
A faint smile touched his face.
A kind of place where time doesn't seem to move in quite the same way.
I'd been there a few weeks.
And one day.
.
.
I heard one of.
.
.
Those days.
He gave the smallest shake of his head.
Nothing you could.
.
.
Point two.
Things not quite landing right.
People I didn't understand.
And who didn't quite understand me.
She listened quietly.
Her body's still.
Her attention settled.
I remember walking for a long time,
He said.
Along the edge of the water.
His voice had softened.
And I kept.
.
.
Going over it all.
What I'd said.
What I should have said.
Was I.
.
.
Could have done differently.
Somewhere in there I'd find the version of the day that would feel better.
But of course.
.
.
It didn't come.
He glanced towards the window briefly.
The rain still tracing its slow paths And after a while.
.
.
I came across an older man.
A faint echo of the present moment.
He was sitting just off the path.
Watching the sea.
There was nothing.
Remarkable about him.
Except.
Does he look?
Entirely at ease.
I must have stood there a moment.
He said.
Because he.
.
.
Turned to me.
And asked if I was trying to solve something.
She felt the smallest smile at that.
I told him I was.
.
.
Just thinking.
And he said,
Thinking is useful.
But not when you're trying to rearrange something that has already happened.
The words seemed to sit gently between them.
He told me.
That I was.
.
.
Carrying the day as though it still needed me.
As though.
.
.
It hadn't finished yet.
But it hurt.
It had done what it was going to do.
Whether I like this or not.
He rested back again.
His hands still loose.
And the only thing left.
.
.
Was for me to decide.
Whether I was going to keep holding it.
Or let it rest where it was.
He looked back at her now.
Not directly.
But enough.
It took me a while to understand what he meant.
He said.
Knowing smile.
But once I did.
.
.
He let the sentence trail slightly.
Allowing the feeling of it to land rather than finishing it outright.
She didn't speak straight away.
The sound of the train carried on around them.
Steady.
Familiar.
And the rain continued its quiet movement along the glass.
But something in her had shifted.
Let out a slow breath.
One she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
And did you?
She asked softly.
Let it go.
He gave a small nod.
Not quickly.
Just.
.
.
Simply.
Not all at once.
A faint smile.
But I stopped trying to carry it.
She looked back to the window.
The dark outside,
Now deeper.
The reflections inside the courage.
More visible.
And it's strange.
He continued gently.
When you stop holding on to a day like that.
.
.
It doesn't follow you.
In quite the same way.
She listened.
Her shoulders easing again.
It settles where it belongs,
He said.
In the past.
Where it already is.
She took that in.
Not analyzing.
Just allowing it to sit.
And you don't have to understand it fully,
He added.
Or make sense of every moment.
Some days are just Unfinished.
She gave the smallest nod as if something in her recognised that immediately.
She said quietly.
Her voice softer now but steadier.
I think that's it.
The train moved on.
Unhurry Carrying them forward all the same.
For the first time that evening.
Her mind didn't reach back.
It didn't.
Try to replay anything.
Or smooth anything out.
It simply rested.
She was.
