Drift to sleep with ease with this calm sleep story for grown-ups.
You are listening to Dreams Beneath the Pines,
A bedtime story set in a mystical world beneath the pines and forest floor.
On the night of an almost full moon,
You explore the woodlands and arrive at a waterfall.
You discover a cave that leads you to a whimsical underground dwelling.
You reunite with a time capsule buried long ago that contains mementos from your past.
They comfort you and remind you of your essence.
You replace them with the dreams you wish to manifest before you fall asleep in a cozy chamber.
So find a safe place to snuggle as your imagination takes flight with this enchanting tale.
It's time to dream away.
I would like to welcome you to Michelle's Sanctuary.
I am Michelle and as you listen,
Think of me as a dear friend and ally.
I am your advocate for sleep and encourage you to claim this time for repose and healing.
You deserve to rest.
As you listen,
I hope you feel the most relaxed and safest you have felt all day in the sanctuary of your room and mind.
Use your imagination to bring healing and repose to your inner world.
Use this time to set the tone for the dreams to come.
Any thoughts that interrupt this soothing time may be cast out into a dark,
Starry sky and float away to the place things go when they are no longer needed.
Give yourself a gentle hug as you sink into your bed and pillows and say to yourself,
I am safe.
I am at ease.
I well.
Every detail of this story may be customized to best suit your yearnings and desires.
You may fall asleep before the story ends and the words contained will continue to assuage your subconscious mind.
Take this moment to feel a wave of gratitude wash over you,
From head to toe.
Visualize your thankfulness as it takes on the form of a blanket of light.
The color of the light is one that you find most comforting.
Your eyelids close like shutters on a window,
Muting the noise of the outside world.
As the healing wave of gratitude travels over your body again and again,
It forms a protective sphere around you.
Your muscles release,
Soften,
And unwind.
Open your mouth and yawn.
If you must,
Fake a yawn until it becomes real.
Your body will respond and stress will ease.
Let out a sigh at the end of the yawn.
Signals travel throughout your nervous system to let each cell know that it is okay to stand down.
When ready,
Inhale through your nose.
Imagine the air in your room smells like a misty forest,
Carrying the aromatic notes of pine needles,
Sweet damp earth,
Decaying leaves,
Eucalyptus,
And the flintiness of stones made wet by a stream.
Yawn again,
Opening your mouth even bigger than last time,
And sigh,
Surrendering,
Sinking down,
Down,
Down,
Into the comforts you have earned.
Entertain one more round of this relaxing pattern at your own pace as you inhale,
Yawn,
And sigh.
Feel yourself drifting like a pine cone floating on a silvery babbling brook.
Surrender like a leaf falling towards the forest floor,
Guided by a soft breeze.
Return your breath to normal.
Revel in the splendor of this comfortable time in a state of tranquility.
It's time for the story to begin.
When asked to describe the sunken world beneath the pines,
Two quotes come to mind.
One is by Ralph Waldo Emerson,
As sunbeams stream through liberal space,
And nothing jostle or displace,
So waved the pine tree through my thought,
And fanned the dreams it never brought.
See,
The pine trees may have fanned the dreams of those who visited,
And buried their time capsules beneath the forest floor,
But it was beneath the enduring root system that the seeds of dreams would sprout over time.
Those that did not sprout were still protected and nurtured,
And gave insights to the dreamers about the dreams they let go of.
For not every desire has the staying power required for a wish to become reality.
And the mystical underground world beneath the pines offers a place for people to reflect and come to terms with the constant waves of change,
Course through life.
Sometimes blessings are disguised as wishes unfulfilled.
And this is only appreciated when the bigger picture is revealed.
And trust me,
The bigger picture is often revealed beneath the pines.
It takes but a deep breath or two in the subterranean shelter to feel safe enough to explore all there is to take in.
The second soul to understand the truth about the pines is John Muir,
As he expressed,
Between every two pines is a doorway to a new.
Sometime long ago,
Perhaps in a dream,
You found yourself in the misty pine forest,
Quite young and inexperienced with all the happenings that would shift your outlook on life.
You came bearing items that meant the most to you.
These items represented who you were at the time,
And who you hoped to become.
Perhaps your yearnings were bolder,
Your ambition without bound.
You wandered to the heart of the forest to meet a keeper of the majestic underground.
Her hair was as dark as night,
Glistening in the moonlight,
As fine as corn silk,
The tresses cascading down her.
Her age was indeterminate,
And not just to your younger self,
Who had such little understanding about time and age.
She sat down on a cedar stump placed near a fire in a clearing in the woods.
Her hand patted a neighboring stump as she invited you to sit.
Something about her sparkling gray eyes inspired trust.
You felt your heart rate slow as your breath became deep and sleepy.
She introduced herself as Twyla and opened a bronze capsule positioned on a bed of emerald green moss.
You ran your fingers curiously over the sculpted edges and embedded gemstones.
Rose quartz,
Amethyst,
Citrine,
Ruby,
And sapphire gemstones twinkled in the moonlight.
You recognized your name engraved on a rose gold plate in the front of the capsule.
You placed the articles that you brought from this time in your life where you were most curious and blessed with naivete.
Toy or item you used to create or play with.
A photo of someone you loved deeply.
An article of clothing or a blanket.
And words scrawled across a wide ruled sheet of paper torn from a notebook written in the penmanship of an earlier you.
Not quite perfect,
The words were not remembered beyond the moment they were written and the paper was folded.
Twyla took the box and told you that you could revisit these items whenever you wanted since they were in fact yours.
But throughout the timeline of your life,
You would know when you most needed to return.
When you did,
You would be invited to explore the chambers beneath the forest floor.
And so it is on this evening,
After many years and moons have gone,
That you walk through the low-lying silver fog of the pine forest.
Your comfortable shoes kick a cluster of pine cones across the needle-covered earth.
Your eyes acclimate to the fog as you slow down and become more aware of your surroundings.
The air is cool against your face,
And glitter-sized water droplets land on your lips and hands.
You inhale deeply,
Savoring the sensation of the damp air that travels through your nose to be warmed before it arrives in your throat and lungs.
Pine trees rise out of the earth,
Their feathery silhouettes illuminated by an early moon rising,
Not quite full,
But a day or two shy.
The moon brings a time of abundance and transformation.
Twigs crunch beneath your feet,
And your shoes leave prints on the soft forest floor.
The fragrant layers of citrusy pine,
A nearby stream,
And the rich earth are woody,
Invigorating,
Slightly minty,
And fast-fleeting.
You travel through the woods,
Crossing paths with a pair of rabbits en route to their nest,
And an owl tucked within a tree hollow.
The familiarity of the forest and your inner compass make it easy to navigate.
You feel as if you have been here many times before.
You come upon the clearing where you once met with Twyla long ago and see the burning embers of a fire dying down.
A thin squiggle of smoke slithers towards the starry sky,
And you return to the stump where you once sat in your youth.
You run your hands across the felt-like pulp on the weathered stump.
You hear a rustle and turn to see Twyla,
Dressed in a velvet robe and chiffon dress with ruffles that shimmer with each step.
Her feet are bare,
As they often are,
For she takes comfort when her soles connect with the earth.
She looks the same as when you last saw her,
Seeing she has unlocked the secret to timeless pulchritude.
For you,
It is as hard to guess her age now as it was long ago.
I expected you earlier and began to think you might not come,
But I could sense a change in the air,
And I would be humbled to have wrongly predicted your arrival.
She hugs you in a maternal embrace that in one touch could fill all the voids in your life that longed for a little tenderness.
You feel as if she has looked out for you all this time,
Knowing,
As the forest knew,
That you would return.
You follow Twyla on a path that weaves between the trees.
She implores you to remove your shoes,
And you do,
Trusting her.
Your bare feet brush atop the moss-covered stones.
The arcs of each foot wrap around the lush green carpet that helps you find your grip and balance.
You feel connected,
Grounded,
Safe.
The shaggy conifers rustle in the evening breeze.
The shadows of dancing branches pour across the damp forest floor.
Dewdrops scatter the earth,
Glistening in opal moonlight like tiny crystal ball.
Twyla brings a sense of enchantment and mysticism that you may have felt as a child when in the presence of a teacher or loved one,
Or friend,
Who encouraged you to play make-believe.
Her kind eyes have never conveyed judgment.
Her easy manner and peace come from being grounded herself,
And the acceptance that every soul has their own journey to process and experience how they choose.
The sounds of a waterfall become louder.
With each graceful step between,
You occasionally reach out to balance in the fog,
And your palm lands on the weathered bark of the tree trunks.
The smell of pine sap lingers on your fingers as you arrive at a babbling stream that reflects the moon and starlight.
The silky water creates a ribbon of twinkling light that cuts through the dark woods.
You follow Twyla,
Her bare feet marching onward at the same pace as her as they land on the smooth,
Wet stones hugging the stream.
Fog persists.
A pearly mist rises from the dark blue water and asks it to dance.
Twyla's garments flow like water as she ascends a hill that leads to the waterfall.
Moonbows form as moonlight refracts the vapors around the cascading water.
The vibrant prisms add pops of color to the grays,
Blues,
Purples,
And blacks of twilight tucks behind the waterfall and calls to you.
Her melodic voice is buried in the orchestra of falling water,
A hooting owl,
Croaking frogs,
And chirping crickets as she encourages you to enter the cave.
You dip your head beneath the waterfall and place your hands on the misty limestone walls.
The stones are cool and coarse beneath your palms.
Balancing on them makes navigation easier.
You feel the solid strength of the limestone.
These walls have been weathered by time,
The water,
And the elements,
Yet they remain strong and protective.
Behind the waterfall is an archway that leads into a cave.
Twyla lights two torches and passes one to you.
The orange-gold flames illuminate mystical paintings on the walls that capture the beauty of the pines.
The cave is somewhat shallow,
And Twyla raises a hatch in the floor that leads to winding stairs made of twisted wood.
She descends and you carefully follow her deep beneath the forest floor.
She brings you to what was known as a heavenly pit caused by a sinkhole long ago.
The forest grew around and above it to create a subterranean haven for respite.
But those who ventured beneath the pines soon realized their inner voice became louder in the protective,
Silent underground.
Twyla's feet bounce on the rich brown earth that absorbs the sound of her landing,
The echoes of the cave.
At the last of the sounds heard before arriving in this quiet oasis,
You enter a library of poems and classics that line the underground walls from floor to ceiling.
A fire crackles in a fireplace,
With a chimney that travels through the earth and opens out on the forest floor.
The ground below your bare feet is damp and cool,
While the room is warm and inviting.
Paintings depicting mythical woodland creatures and the forest contain vibrant hues and hang on the earthen walls.
They depict timeless and beautiful scenes in nature,
Created by the scores of artists who have visited the pines in their dreams.
Some are painted on wooden panels,
Others on slate and canvas made from foraged plants.
Twyla leads you down a wide,
Dark hallway.
She directs the light of her torch towards the walls to reveal hundreds of storage cubbies that contain time capsules.
Each door is engraved with a name and two dates.
One date reveals the place and time when the time capsule was filled.
The next reveals the date of the intended return.
Twyla takes your hand in hers and places your palm on a door engraved with your name.
You see the date when you first visited and today's date.
The door recognizes your handprint and you feel it open out toward you.
You peer inside the cubby to see the glittering gemstones that adorn the capsule.
You remove the bronze container,
Covered with a thin layer of dust.
You purse your lips and blow away the fine particles.
They sparkle in the firelight.
Twyla closes the tiny door to the safe.
And guides you down the hall to a circular lobby.
Mirrors hang on the walls and you count over a dozen doors that lead to chambers for sleep.
The aesthetic is whimsical and colorful.
And the deep roots of the pines form around the domed ceiling where a cantaloupe chandelier hangs.
Golden flames flicker and shadows move on the sod walls.
Unicorns,
Fairies,
Gnomes,
And forest creatures are carved into the wooden doors that lead to the sleeping chambers.
Twyla leads you to a door that depicts your favorite woodland creatures,
Both mystical and real.
She explains that come morning,
You will awaken in your bed at home.
With all the messages of the pines inspiring you to make the choices that will build the life you desire.
She brushes her slender hand across your forehead and kisses your cheek as she whispers good promise to one day meet again in your dream.
For a moment,
It feels as though she could be your fairy godmother.
If such a thing existed.
You open the door slowly,
Surprised by the strength it requires,
And you enter the bedroom suite.
It is quite unexpected to find a room like this so deep beneath the forest floor and pines.
If it were not for a ladder made of frayed rope and wooden steps leading to the above ground,
You would think you were in a normal.
Every now and then,
A sliver of moonlight slips between the lush flora that covers a portal to the underground chamber.
The room feels quite familiar,
And some of the furniture reminds you of a place that brought you great comfort and sleep at some point in your life.
Whimsical jars filled with fairy lights are scattered throughout the room on shelves built into the earthen walls.
You sit down on a whimsical plush rug decorated with flower petals.
Sitting in the center,
You sink into the warm,
Fluffy textile and open the time capsule.
The first item is the toy or memento that encouraged you to be playful.
Perhaps it is even something that helped you to create art or express yourself in some way.
Holding this object makes you smile.
It transports you to a different version of you.
But the essence of you has always been the same.
And in this moment,
You think about how that younger you would be so proud of the you today for still being imaginative.
The next object comforts you.
It may have been difficult to part with at the time,
But like the many hellos and goodbyes that happen throughout life,
Your wise younger self knew you would be okay without it.
You knew you would be stronger and open yourself to new experiences that would soothe you as much,
If not more,
As this object.
Reconnecting with this article brings back a wave of comforting moments.
Its fabric retains a smell so deeply embedded within your memory bank that you travel through time on one sniff.
You feel deeply grateful for your body and how it keeps these things filed away,
Retrievable whenever you encounter a familiar,
Soothing smell.
Your body dials down,
Slowing and relaxing in this reunion with items contained in your time capsule.
You pull out another item,
One that captures the era where this time capsule journey began.
It is silly and nostalgic at the same time,
And those of your generation would understand its meaning most.
Perhaps it has no use in the modern world,
Beyond its ability to help you remember the comforts of an earlier time.
You have learned so,
You have grown so much.
You discover the photo of a person who was the most important to you at the time and smile.
You feel the love and nurturing kindness they offered in the simplest gesture.
You hold it against your heart and remember how it felt to be comforted by this person.
You close your eyes,
Reminiscing.
You inhale and exhale.
You open your eyes and remove the last item from the bronze capsule.
It is a piece of paper folded many times,
Like a secret note passed to a friend in school.
You cannot recall what your younger self would have said or written to this future you.
You unfold it slowly,
Careful to not tear the aged paper.
It surprises you to come across the handwriting of a younger you.
It is clear you were careful and precise when writing.
The indentations of each line and curve of the ink go deep into the paper.
You trace the message with your finger as you read.
One brush across the note brings an instant spark and connection to the you from long ago.
The message reads,
You are a good person.
You always try your best.
And that is what matters most of all.
That you try.
It's okay to make mistakes.
Just keep trying.
In this message,
You read the words that your younger self should have heard even more often than you did.
Because that level of compassion and encouragement gives you the best foundation to launch your dreams.
And you have always done your best.
Given the circumstances and moments you dealt with at each juncture in your life,
You rise and walk to a desk made of marble,
Where silky paper made of plant fibers and tiny dried flowers from the forest awaits the words of the you that you are today.
You sit down and with a fountain pen,
You write a letter to your future self with a love and compassion of younger you.
With a wisdom and deeper understanding of who you are now,
You write to the person you wish to become.
You write with the hope that you will one day look and deeply love and appreciate every version of yourself that has existed along the way.
You smile as you fold the paper,
Not quite so many times as your younger self did.
You place the letter inside the bronze box and close it,
Not sure when you will revisit this place beneath the pines,
But you know you will when the timing is right.
Feeling quite tired,
You walk to a bed tucked within thick and winding roots of a pine tree.
You change into old-timey nightclothes made of cotton folded at the end of the plush mattress.
You climb into the bed and welcome the comforts in this chamber deep in the earth,
Where it is quiet,
Still,
Safe,
Where the seeds of new dreams may sprout and reach for the sky's light.
But for now,
You peacefully float between worlds,
Surrendering to the soft tug of sleep.
Your arms gently wrap around your body in a hug.
In this moment of self-compassion and care,
This trip to the pine forest has reminded you how much you deserve to be tended to and loved.
And that love begins with you as you drift down,
Down,
Down to sleep.
Finding tranquility,
Finding repose,
Finding solace,
Finding sleep.
It's time to dream away.
