Autumn Cottage In Camden: Dreamy Sleep Journey

Drift to sleep in the charming village of Camden, Maine. If you're looking for an autumn-inspired, cottagecore escape, this sleepy tale is for you. A relaxing stroll through the village and a soothing kayak ride through the bay bring you to the shores of the Autumn Cottage.

Partake in a healing ritual, letting go and casting your wishes on a fallen leaf that drifts across the water. Then, return to the cottage where apples and baking spices simmer on the stove, a fire roars in the hearth, and the coziness of fall embraces you.

It's time to dream away.

Transcript

For those who love to be immersed in the cozy cottage core essence of an autumn in New England,

Tonight's sleep story is just for you.

Snuggle up and prepare for the crisp air of the season to bring the perfect setting for deep healing rest.

You are listening to Autumn Cottage in Camden,

A soothing journey for sleep set in a coastal village where the ocean's tides meet the turning of the seasons along the jagged rocky shore of Maine's mid-coast.

Come along with a companion or a pet of your choosing,

Customizing this charming tale from your first steps through the golden afternoon light in the historic town.

You will enjoy picturesque views of the harbor and sailboats as you kayak back to a hidden cove where your autumn cottage awaits beneath the saturated hues of fall's canopy.

Gather fallen leaves along the water's edge,

And as the sun sets,

Perform a quiet ritual of release and hope.

As stars glimmer to life,

You return to the cottage,

Warmed by a fire in the hearth,

Comforted by the scents of cinnamon,

Nutmeg,

And apples simmering on the stove.

Cozy contentment helps you fall asleep in this perfect fall escape.

It's time to dream away.

Welcome to Michelle's Sanctuary.

I'm Michelle and I hope my voice guides you with the nurturing comfort of a trusted friend as you find your place of calm.

A dear friend of mine just moved her family from the remote island of Saipan to Camden,

Maine,

And her recent messages awakened memories I have of a weekend I spent in this beautiful town many Septembers ago.

There's a timelessness to Camden,

A small-town charm and friendliness that can be a great reminder that we live in a kind world.

I'm so grateful you've chosen to spend this delicate time with me before you cross the bridge to your sleeping life.

Change any detail to suit your mood tonight,

And fall asleep whenever you desire.

We're going to enjoy a brief relaxation together to set the tone for this perfect autumn night.

Wiggle if you desire to release any lingering remnants of the day,

And then find stillness.

Release a sigh,

Making a sound as you exhale,

Then sip in the air slowly,

Imagining the clean salty aromas of a coastal Maine afternoon.

Picture your space softening,

Becoming the heart of an old cottage nestled at the edge of a bay.

Let out a long,

Gentle sigh,

Releasing any tension or lingering feelings.

As you inhale,

The air brings all your favorite aromas of the fall season,

Enhancing the realness of this mental escape.

Perhaps you yawn at the top of your breath,

And then let out a sigh.

You may continue to inhale and sigh all you want,

At the rhythm and pacing that feels good to you now,

As I count us down,

Because the more relaxed you become,

The easier it is for your imagination to deliver you to Camden.

5.

Connect with the spirit of autumn in New England,

As all your muscles find softness,

Surrendering like fallen leaves that float atop the gentle waves of a bay.

4.

A deep sense of gratitude washes over you,

As you appreciate the warmth of the sea.

Appreciate the gift autumn brings,

With a chance for change,

For drawing inward and intentionally crafting cozy moments.

3.

Waves of comfort and peace undulate through you,

In bands of autumnal hues,

Vibrant reds and oranges,

Amber and gold,

Yellow and deep plum,

Helping you find comfort on a cellular level.

2.

Your muscles soften,

Your joints find more space,

You take up more room as your face relaxes in a delicious surrender.

3.

You envision the coziness of a fireplace,

As you come in from the crisp,

Cool night.

The firelight gently flows from the ground of your head,

All the way down your body,

Over your palms and the soles of your feet.

1.

Imbued with the coziness of fall,

The backs of your tired eyelids become a movie screen,

Where the gorgeous details of the story play out vividly like a dream.

2.

Ease your breath,

Back to its most natural,

Sleepy tempo,

As our bedtime story begins.

Camden is a charming,

Historic village,

Nestled amongst the rocky shoreline of the mid-coast of Maine.

It's a place with a deep and quiet history,

Where Europeans first settled in 1770,

Its harbors once echoed with the busy sounds of schooners being built,

As it became a vital hub that was incorporated in 1791.

It's maritime history is still very much felt in the modern world,

In a place of quiet elegance and serene beauty that feels,

In many ways,

Timeless.

Historic buildings like the Camden Opera House feature brick facades,

While charming boutiques and galleries showcase classic New England wood siding,

Painted in nautical hues and muted colors.

Often accented with cedar shakes or traditional trim details,

The vibrant village overlooks a harbor filled with the graceful presence of windjammers and sailboats.

Their sails catching the autumnal golden afternoon light.

The postcard-worthy village is sleepier on weekdays like today,

As the season brings a new wave of weekend visitors who come for leap-peeping season.

The air in Camden is a unique perfume of salt spray,

Fresh bread,

Maple and pumpkin spice coffee,

And decaying leaves carried on a breeze that rustles through leaves,

Already hinting at autumn's touch.

It's not hard to imagine what life was like centuries ago,

As nature's rhythm is just as vibrant from the twinkling deep blue water of West Penobscot Bay.

The pace is slow and soothing as children are back in school,

And the lines of summer are a fading memory as the villagers consider the incoming changes of autumn and winter.

You find yourself in the heart of Camden,

Perhaps solo,

Or with a beloved one,

Or maybe a pet.

You take your time meandering through town.

It's one of those picturesque places that celebrates Halloween and goes all out.

And in a month's time,

Jack-o'-lanterns will light up the porches of historic cottages as kids take to the streets in the costumes that are trending this season.

Your feet are clad in comfortable sneakers.

You wear a sweater and soft denim jeans.

Dressed in your favorite autumnal colors.

You walk along a quiet old brick sidewalk,

Your footsteps heard as they land on the first handfuls of fallen leaves.

Today,

The afternoon air is warm,

But with just a hint of coolness,

Felt in the air.

Not in the shade,

Or with an occasional gust of wind off the harbor.

The light is an otherworldly gold,

Filtering through the branches of old maple and oak trees whose leaves are just beginning to blush with fiery red and russet.

The glistening sun lands on your face,

And a gentle cool bay breeze kisses the back of your neck.

You pass by charming historic homes,

Their weathered clapboard siding painted in inviting colors.

Some have window boxes overflowing with blooms like fiery orange marigolds,

Arranged with tiny pumpkins and gourds.

You make your way toward the harbor,

The centerpiece of the village.

As you walk by,

You pass an antique store with a faded sign.

The window display,

Filled with old nautical tools,

Ship models,

And worn books.

These objects cause your mind to wander,

Envisioning a time when Camden was a bustling city.

A sense of time-honored craftsmanship and resilience lingers in the air,

And is even more evident as you approach a small market whose sign boasts its origins date back to 1868.

The sound of a bell from a quiet church steeple chimes a low,

Melodic note in the distance,

A gentle reminder of the hour as you open the door to the market and a tiny brass bell rings.

You gather a fresh baguette,

Crusty and still warm,

And inhale the aroma of cinnamon rolls and pumpkin pie.

Warm sweet scents that mingle with the briny air that comes in from the street.

Paying for the items and placing them in your canvas bag,

You step back into the village,

Ready to return to your cottage to enjoy a night of coziness,

Self-care,

And reflection.

The streets give way to a boardwalk,

Which brings you to a wide expanse of granite,

And you find yourself standing at the edge of Camden Harbor.

The water is a deep,

Tranquil blue,

Dotted with the mass of beautiful schooners.

A few seagulls circle overhead,

Their calls echoing across the water.

The sailboats sway gently in their moorings,

Their rigging making a quiet,

Rhythmic clinking sound against the masts.

Although there are only a few people in the harbor,

It is alive with a quiet,

Working beauty,

A place where generations have earned their living from the Atlantic.

You breathe in deeply,

Inviting the salt-laced air to fill your nose and cleanse your lungs.

You continue your walk through town,

Admiring the way the light catches the old brick and granite.

An impossibly narrow building with shake-siding is nestled between much larger buildings,

One mustard and one red,

With A-frame roofs that tower over it.

A circular sign hangs outside this unique building,

Revealing it is straight ahead.

The signs in the village use an old,

Timey font,

Often bookended by vintage lanterns.

The storefront windows of a small boutique feature rustic wooden tables that display hand-crafted sweaters and woolen blankets,

Their colors reflecting the rich tones of the season,

Burnt orange,

Deep forest green.

Burgundy and mustard yellow.

The locals,

Particularly those that work in the shops,

All seem to take a collective sigh as they enjoy this welcome lull that the autumn weekdays bring.

They meet you with kind smiles and waves,

And you feel a sense of connection,

Of being part of this cozy,

Living,

Breathing place.

As the afternoon sun deepens in an orange-gold shade and begins its slow descent into the bay,

You return to your awaiting kayak.

You ease yourself into the seat,

The boat floating gently on the calm water of the bay.

As you take a few graceful,

Easy strokes,

The kayak propels forward with ease.

The village and its vibrant energy begin to recede behind you.

The sounds of the town are replaced by the gentle lapping of water against your boat.

The air feels cooler now,

And you can sense the day's transition.

You paddle along the coast,

Taking your time,

And enjoying the strength in your arms and core that you feel with each stroke.

The golden sunlight casts a shimmering path across the bay,

Leading you home.

The hills of Camden are a stunning backdrop.

Their forested slopes,

A deep,

Rich green,

Now speckled with the first hints of autumn,

An ever-changing palette that will become more beautiful with each new morning until they reach their peak.

Just waiting for the right time to ignite in a blaze of red and gold.

Old stone walls and granite outcroppings are visible along the shore.

The air continues to grow cooler as you glide along,

The sun dipping lower.

The only sounds are the rhythmic dip of your paddle and the soft rush of water.

You round a small point and come to the edge of a secluded cove where your autumn cottage awaits.

Its weathered gray shingles and white trim glow in the fading light,

Offering a neutral canvas for the autumnal decor that is seen even from afar.

A fieldstone chimney rises from the roof and come nightfall,

A plume of smoke will rise from it into a starry sky.

Lanterns line the porch where decorative cornstalks are carefully arranged.

Two ivory wicker armchairs and an outdoor sofa are adorned with orange,

Burgundy,

And gold plaid cushions with pumpkin and autumn leaf themed throw pillows.

A wreath of dried leaves and small pumpkins hangs on the scarlet front door,

A beautiful welcome.

The entire cottage is a vision of autumn,

As are many of the neighboring homes that dapple the coastline.

Everyone celebrates the seasons that vary so dramatically along the main coast.

The trees around the cottage are a mix of ancient oaks and young maples,

Adding pops of color here and there.

The air also becomes damper as sunset approaches,

Smelling sweeter and more briny with a hint of distant wood smoke.

You paddle with ease and the tide delivers you to the shore of the cove.

You ease your kayak onto the smooth,

Dark sand and then remove your canvas bag and walk along the rocky beach.

The last rays of sun cast a long shadow from the cottage.

The air is still and silent,

A quiet pause before the full arrival of dusk.

The peaceful moment settles over you.

You bring your bag to a table and find a lighter carefully stowed within a drawer.

Edison lights strung from the trees over a small fire pit and vibrant green Adirondack chairs come to life.

You start a fire with dry kindling and a small log in the pit.

It comes to life,

Adding warmth to the increasing coolness in the air.

The water laps gently,

A calming soundtrack as your plans unfold.

The sun is just a sliver of fire on the horizon,

Its last golden light bleeding across the water.

You walk along the beach,

Your eyes scanning the ground for the perfect fallen leaves.

Though not as abundant as they will be in a few weeks,

There are still quite a few that scatter the earth.

You find a variety of colors and textures.

A deep red maple leaf,

Its points perfect and sharp.

A vibrant yellow birch leaf,

Delicate as a butterfly's wing.

A soft brown oak leaf,

Its edges curled with age.

You feel a deep connection to these tiny,

Fragile gifts of the season.

You settle into a chair by the fire and pull out a black and gold sharpie marker from the pocket of your jeans.

This is the moment for your ritual.

The world outside is a peaceful,

Beautiful blur.

A firelight and a sky exploding in vivid bands of pink,

Orange,

And red,

But your world inside is still and focused.

You hold the first leaf in your hand.

This leaf is for what you need to release,

What you need to let go of from the past year.

It could be a worry,

A fear,

A resentment,

Or a burden.

You take the black sharpie and with a quiet mind,

You write on the leaf.

The ink is a dark,

Final mark,

Depicting everything that has been stealing your peace,

That's clouding your thoughts,

Causing tension in your body,

Or bringing heaviness to your heart.

You feel the weight of these words,

Their meaning settling in your soul.

Then,

With a gentle breath,

You place the leaf in the fire.

And watch it catch,

Sparks fly towards the sunset skies,

And you are filled with a deep sense of peace and a happy sensation of lightness,

As this leaf becomes ash.

Now,

You pick up a second leaf.

This one is your favorite of the bunch.

This leaf is for what you want to bring into your life,

Your harvest of hopes and wishes for the coming seasons.

It could be more peace,

More joy,

More creativity,

More connection.

You take the gold metallic sharpie and write on its colorful,

Waxy surface.

The ink is a shimmering contrast,

A strong and hopeful statement.

You look at your wish,

Letting its meaning fill you.

You stand and walk to the water's edge.

As you place the leaf on the sparkling water,

It catches the last of the sun's light,

A small boat of hope sailing out into the bay.

You watch it drift,

A tiny promise of the good things to come,

Until it,

Too,

Disappears into the twilight.

You sit for a few more moments by the fire,

As it dwindles,

Breathing in the warmth of the quiet of the sunset,

Feeling a sense of lightness and clarity.

The sky deepens into the blues of twilight,

Blending seamlessly with the water as the first stars begin to show.

You rise,

Stretching your arms overhead as a yawn sets itself free.

Crickets begin their nocturnal song as you walk to the cottage,

Wrapping your arms around yourself in a hug,

As the night brings a slight chill.

As you open the door to the cottage,

A soft welcoming light spills out.

The interior is a warm,

Glowing haven that embodies everything,

One and all.

One might imagine,

And even hope,

An autumn cottage could contain.

Every nook,

Every surface,

Is a celebration of the season.

Your gaze falls on the living room,

Where a large plush rug,

Its pattern a beautiful plaid of deep reds,

Greens,

And browns,

Covers the shiny hardwood floor.

Piles of soft blankets in every shade of autumn,

Wine,

Pumpkin orange,

Burnt sienna,

Deep yellow and forest green,

Are folded over the furniture,

Inviting you to cuddle and relax.

The furniture is a delightful mix of rustic and refined,

With well-loved wood and deep comfortable cushions upholstered in wine and cream fabric.

Firewood is already laid in the stone hearth,

Waiting to be lit.

You kneel and light kindling for the second time tonight,

A small match igniting a warm orange glow.

The flames quickly catch,

And a gentle crackle fills the room.

The scent of pine and oak smoke mixes with the scents of the cottage.

Small pumpkins and gourds decorate the wood mantle,

Along with timeless framed photos of pumpkin patches and apple orchards.

You stand and walk to the kitchen,

Which has been designed to be a gathering place.

The antique stove,

Its cast iron a deep rich black,

Has been here for a century,

Very well maintained.

On its top burner,

A pot of water is waiting,

And you add cinnamon sticks,

Whole cloves and star anise,

And bring it to a simmer,

Placing a few slices of apples in it as well.

They're left over from a pie you baked in the morning.

Steam soon rises,

A fragrant cloud that fills the air with the comforting,

Spicy scent of An antique Dutch oven sits on the back burner,

A vibrant orange-red hue.

It contains a rich,

Creamy pumpkin soup you made just before heading into town.

You give it a stir with a ladle that brushes against the side,

Filling it with the scent of the Dutch oven.

Though it's still warm,

You turn on the burner to heat it up a bit more,

And then remove the baguette from your canvas bag,

Slicing it on a cutting board in diagonal pieces.

You place the bread in a basket,

And gather a bowl and napkin that capture the spirit of fall.

As the soup comes to a simmer,

You turn off the burner and generously ladle it into the table.

The dining nook is adorned with nautical and historical elements,

A nod to Camden's past.

A ship's wheel hangs on the wall,

Its spokes worn smooth by time.

Old brass lanterns sit on shelves,

Their glass panes clouded with age.

A small model schooner rests on a shelf,

Lined with tiny orange and gold autumn leaf lights.

Its tiny sails are perfectly trimmed,

A miniature version of the boats you saw in the harbor.

The fire across the way in the living room is now a steady,

Warm glow.

You enjoy your hearty meal,

The smells of cinnamon and cloves and apple and pumpkin soup join the soothing smell of the burning logs.

Every sip,

Every bite,

And every sensation.

It serves to bring comfort and warmth as you watch the moon rise over the water.

The firelight reflects on the mullioned windows,

A ghostly overlay of the nocturnal blues of the sky and bay just beyond the panes.

This mesmerizing visual reminds you of your ritual,

Letting go of something,

So you have room to harvest what you most need and desire in every way imaginable.

This moment soothes you and brings a bold,

Deep feeling of comfort and bliss in the autumn cottage.

You rise and gently clean the few dishes,

The simple act of quiet meditation,

Putting away the remaining soup,

Reminds you of abundance.

You turn the dial on the stove and the bubbling of the simmering apples and spices fades to stillness.

The scent still lingers in the air,

A warm and comforting farewell to the day's nourishment and pleasure.

You make your way to the bathroom,

A delightful space also designed for the season.

A wreath of tiny dried gourds and maple leaves hangs from a nook on the door.

You reach for a small bottle on the sink,

Its label promising apple cider shampoo.

You grab a fresh bar of apple cinnamon soap.

You step into the shower and the steam rises around you,

A fragrant cloud of spiced apples and cinnamon that warms you from the inside out.

The sweet,

Crisp scent is a perfect welcome to the new season.

You feel the day's lingering tension melt away,

Replaced by a profound sense of calm.

You step out,

Towel off,

And wrap yourself in soft flannel pajamas,

Their fabric a cozy shield against the growing evening chill of the Maine coast.

You walk toward the bedroom,

A soft glow from the embers of the fire casting a gentle light.

A majestic ivory four-poster bed sits in the heart of the spacious bedroom,

Featuring a bed of soft velvet curtains.

The window is cracked just enough to allow a cool,

Salty breeze to circulate through the space,

And you can see a sliver of the moon rising over the quiet bay.

Soft throw blankets in autumnal shades rest at the foot of the bed,

And the downy duvet cover resembles a watercolor painting of Camden.

It swirls of deep red,

Golden yellow,

And amber leaves reflecting on the bay.

You feel the cool air on your skin as you peel back the fresh,

Crisp sheets,

And you enter the weight of the soft duvet.

You feel the coolness of the air with each breath as you are completely enveloped by the warmth of the bedding.

You find yourself drifting and fading into the welcoming embrace of slumber.

Finding bliss,

Finding transformation,

Finding rest.

Reviews

Another lovely, peaceful story. Maine is absolutely beautiful, I lived in NH for over 10 years and all of New England is beautiful. I miss it! 💜💜

Thank you, Michelle🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻Autumn has always been one of my favorite seasons, though I haven’t really experienced a “real” one for decades, and October this year is one of the warmest on record. Nevertheless, it’s fun to let my imagination take over, enriched by your beautiful fall bedtime story🙏🏻🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🙏🏻

Love this bedtime story! Autumn🍁 is my favourite time of year! Cool & windy with gorgeous seasonal colours! Fell asleep quickly & slept soundly! Thank you kindly Michelle for another wonderful bedtime story. 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗

Maine sounds so beautiful. Autumn is my favorite season & I never experienced it until I moved to Utah. I love the change of the colors of the trees, apples & cinnamon, & pumpkin. Thank you, Michelle, for this beautiful story.

Very soothing and relaxing used it for a nap and was soon asleep will listen to it again at bedtime thanks again xx