Plinging in.
For a very comfortable sleep right now.
And I'm inviting you to close your eyes.
That's right.
Allowing yourself to sink in a little bit deeper.
And taking one slow breath in.
And letting it go.
And we shall begin.
I'd like you to imagine that it's a winter's day.
Busy,
Relentless,
Cold and grey winter's day.
You are out shopping.
And it's very busy outside.
It's that kind of busy that happens at certain times of the year when everyone has somewhere to be,
Something to do.
Someone to see.
The streets are full,
The roads are gridlocked,
Horns are sounding.
People pushing past with bags and umbrellas and somewhere more important to be.
It's very busy and you can feel the cold drizzle that's starting to rain now.
You've been in this for a while.
The noise,
The crowds,
The traffic,
The endless stimulation of a world that never quite stops.
All around you,
All that noise,
All that hassle,
All that bustle.
And then you see it.
It's across the square,
A ground building.
Enormous doors.
It's a gallery.
You decide to seek shelter in that building and you enter it.
And the moment you step inside,
Something shifts.
You feel the warmth.
You feel it first on your face,
Then on your hands,
Then gradually through your whole body.
You can see,
Feel it on your chest,
On your tummy.
Your back is becoming warmer and your legs.
You didn't realize how cold you had become until this very moment.
You are dry.
You are inside.
The rain cannot reach you here.
The entrance hall is huge,
Very high ceilings,
Marble floors that echo all the footsteps.
Big columns rising on either side.
It's a very busy room.
People are moving in every direction,
Lots of talking,
Shouting sometimes.
Because this is a crowded public space.
Coats are being removed.
Bags are being checked.
Children are running ahead of their parents.
Groups are clustering around the maps.
But even so,
This is better.
It's better than being outside because it is warm.
You are warm.
You are sheltered.
And somewhere ahead of you beyond these crowds.
There is a gallery itself.
So you move through the entrance hole,
Through the hole.
Trying to avoid people bumping into you.
And you can step inside the first room of this gallery.
As you're visiting the first room you see that it's enormous.
High ceilings.
Walls covered in very dramatic huge paintings,
Bold colors,
Strong lines,
Powerful images.
As if every painting screams for your attention.
Every wall is full.
Every inch is covered.
There are many people here.
Voices occurring,
Footsteps ringing on the hard floor.
There's an audio guide playing somewhere nearby.
Children asking questions in a loud in loud clear voices.
You kind of glance at the paintings,
They are impressive,
Full of energy and noise,
Even in their stillness,
But you don't want to stay here.
You've had enough.
Of loud and busy today.
So you decide to move towards the far end of the room where a doorway leads deeper into the gallery,
Deeper into the building.
Into another room.
This second room.
Is smaller.
It's beautiful,
Still grand but beautiful.
The ceiling are a little bit lower here now.
And the space is more contained.
And there are fewer people here,
There are no children running.
The sound of the first room fades behind you as you enter and you can still hear it but it belongs now as if to another world.
Here the paintings are soft.
They show landscapes.
Fields.
Skies.
You feel that your shoulders drop just a little bit down.
You didn't realize how high they had been,
You've been holding them.
You slow your pace.
This room demands no hurry here.
No one needs anything from you in this room.
You can simply just be.
You spend a moment with one of the paintings.
White sky,
Soft clouds.
Lovely colours and hues of this painting.
And then you notice at the far end of this room There's another doorway.
And you feel that it's the right way to go even deeper.
Into this building.
Even deeper.
So you step through.
And in this third room.
There's a different atmosphere here because this room is smaller again.
The ceilings lower the light It's much softer.
And here there is a soft carpet.
That you can feel underneath your feet.
You are almost alone here.
One other person fell across the room They are absorbed in something on the wall,
Paying you no attention.
Suddenly all the noises are now gone completely.
In this room,
Paintings are small,
Softer,
Tender.
Domestic scenes,
Candlelight,
Quiet interiors.
You've noticed that your breathing has slowed and it's much deeper now.
Your thoughts are slow.
The world outside.
Feels very far away now.
You're noticing your body relaxing now in this room.
You feel very warm.
Very quiet.
And then you see it.
At the very far end of this room.
Almost hidden.
There's another door.
Call Dagwood.
It's slightly ajar.
And you can see beyond it.
The faintest warm glow.
It feels that you really should be visiting that room which you are now slowly moving towards.
You push open this small door and step inside.
This room is very cozy,
Very intimate,
It's warm.
The walls are covered in deep dark gold wallpaper.
The ceiling is low.
Light here is barely here.
It's just enough to see.
Because in this room there's only just one painting.
It hangs.
On the wall directly ahead of you.
And even before you look at it properly.
You feel it.
A warmth emanating from the canvas.
You can feel that warmth gently touching you.
And in front of this painting there's a chair The chair is deep and wide.
Covered in velvet.
Its cushions are soft.
There's a blanket folded over one arm.
The blanket is warm and heavy and cozy.
And you can see that beside the chair on the floor,
There are more cushions.
And you can sit in the chair or you can sink down onto the floor amongst the cushion.
And simply just lie there.
Choose what piece to buy.
Take the blanket and let it settle over you.
Feel its weight.
Feel the warmth of it beginning to move through you.
And now.
Glance over at the painting.
That's why.
It's painted in pastel colours.
Soft blood as though seen through half-closed eyes.
Gentle pings and creams and the palest gold lavender.
Faintest blues.
The colours blend and intertwine into one another at the edges.
There are no lines here,
No boundaries.
Everything is soft.
You cannot quite make out what it shows.
And it doesn't matter.
It doesn't need to be anything specific.
It simply is.
Just as you are simply are here.
It's warm and soft.
And deeply restful.
You feel your eyes growing heavy,
Your body sinking deep.
Painting seems to be.
Breathing with you.
As you look at the painting,
The edges of the room soften.
The boundary between you and me.
And where the painting is begins to blur.
The colours reach towards you slowly,
Gently.
Like warmth from a fire.
And you find that you are moving towards them.
Now walking,
Simply drifting.
Drifting away in that space just before sleep where the body has let go but the mind is still little bit slightly faintly aware but that's also is gently melting away The pastel colours surround you now,
Soft pink.
Warm cream Most gentle girl.
And you can become aware of the gentle sound,
The soft continuous white noise feels the space around you completely.
It makes it safe.
You feel safe.
Melting away into the surface beneath you,
Nothing is urgent.
Nothing needs your attention now.
The painting is endless.
Soft in every direction,
You are inside of it now,
Warm,
Safe,
Completely safe.
There is nothing to do here.
It's nothing to sing.
Nothing to be.
You are held,
You are warm,
You are safe.
And some were very gently.
Very naturally.
You are falling into sleep.
Feeling yourself letting go.
Gently into a wonderful sleep.
Be.
Love.
Restful.
Sleep.
