Fall back asleep with ease to the sound of rain.
You're listening to The Rainy Garden Cottage,
A soothing journey back to sleep.
Welcome to Michelle's Meditation Sanctuary.
I'm Michelle.
I'm here to gently guide your thoughts back to dreamy visions.
Dialing down the noise and quieting the energy that's keeping you awake.
Let my voice greet you like a longtime friend.
Who knows full well how frustrating it is to be awake too soon.
Trust you are in the right place.
This is your sanctuary.
And the more often you listen when stirred from sleep prematurely.
The easier you will find it is for slumber to find you once more.
Find relief and acknowledging.
That's no matter what woke you.
How long you've been up.
Your body will receive the rest it needs tonight.
Even now.
Simply listening.
Your body is relaxing and recovering.
Consider that sleep was never far away.
It was waiting here all along.
Waiting in the rain.
Waiting in a quiet garden.
Waiting for you.
Your body already knows the way back.
It's time to dream away.
Allow your mind to wander to a picturesque setting.
Led by the sound of the falling rain.
Find yourself standing on the porch of a home.
Home that lives in your dreams.
You stepped outside in the night.
Unable to sleep.
Knowing this time offers a beautiful landscape to take in.
It's not often you get to observe the world when it's asleep.
So you relish the quietude.
Still in your pajamas.
You stand beneath the eaves.
As the rain cascades down the awning.
You close your eyes.
Listen to the pattern.
Mesmerizing percussion on the leaves.
Soft hush over everything.
Draw after draw.
Finding its way home to the earth.
The air comes to kiss your skin.
With a soft,
Rainy mist.
Cool.
Soothing.
The rain lands on silky petals of gardenia.
And wet roses.
Imparting the fragrance of the blooms.
It marries the scent of clean rain.
Flowers receive the rain with appreciation.
You peer out beyond the white railing.
Where your hands find a steady grip.
See the garden.
The deep shades.
Nocturnal blues and shadowy grays.
The petals,
Pinks,
Oranges,
Yellows and purples reflect the light.
The small pools of water within the lilies make you wish you could be small enough.
Float in their perfumed baths.
The raindrops that settle on the blooms.
Find stillness for a little while.
Becoming prisms.
Magical orbs.
Capture the surrounding beauty of the night.
Reflecting the scenes beyond them.
Dreamy detail.
Whole dark garden.
Glistens and receives.
You have always known this garden.
The special place around you.
Perhaps from a dream.
Maybe from an illustration in a storybook.
You read as a child.
Or maybe it was depicted on a greeting card.
Are the galleries of a museum.
Featuring impressionist paintings.
But somehow.
Even on your very first visit.
It already feels like home.
There's a sense of relief in this mystical garden.
The particular feeling.
Finding somewhere.
Expects nothing from you.
There's a porch swing with thick chains suspended from a wooden beam overhead.
Its bench is wide and deep.
Covered with plush cushions and throw pillows in your favorite hues.
Swings slightly.
Creaking softly.
While remaining tucked beneath the overhanging roof.
Where the rain can't reach you.
You lower yourself into it.
It seems to have been shaped for exactly your body.
Exactly tonight.
Completely dry.
Completely sheltered.
Just beyond the railing.
The whole garden drinks in the storm.
You watch it for a while.
Swinging yourself gently to and fro.
The motion calms you deeply.
Familiar sense of being rocked to sleep.
Invites your nervous system to settle.
Flowers bow gently.
Under the weight of raindrops.
Their petals silver.
Wherever the light catches them.
Leaves shimmer.
Flickers of moonlight.
Each time the storm clouds thin.
The full saucer moon.
Is high and mighty behind them.
Shadows shift slowly.
Across the wet grass.
That undulates like a sea of green blades.
Everything is soft and reassuring.
Taking its time.
The garden breathes.
Thinks no one is looking.
Most nights.
No one is.
That's part of the magic.
Being up at this unusual hour.
You get to observe.
It's a brief detour from sleep.
Just as dreamy and pacifying as slumber is.
Its own unique way.
Every being is hunkered down.
In a dry hideaway.
And all the souls you know.
You're asleep right now.
In this small pocket of wakefulness.
You are given a private window.
It's the part of the world.
Rests with an audience.
Cloud-covered stars.
It's the moon that peeks beyond.
Concealed beyond the plum black clouds.
You are the sole witness.
The rain is a blessing for the garden.
Not the inconvenience sometimes considered to be.
Just the same as being up at this hour.
No longer feels.
Like an inconvenience.
To you.
You settle.
The garden grows and thrives in the night.
Petals unfurl after midnight.
And the roots expand and claim their space.
The garden has slowed down.
The way tonight.
And you slow down with it.
Peppered throughout the garden.
Fantastical statues.
Tiny fairies with glistening wings.
Silly garden gnomes that add levity.
But also a sense of safety.
Your own breath.
Begins to match the slow cadence.
Of the falling rain.
You inhale slowly and alone.
Let out a sigh.
With a steady patter on waxy green leaves.
Feeling of peace.
Simply washes over you.
Away the clean rain.
Washes over the stone path.
The mossy edges of the garden bed.
The way it settles into the soil.
Without asking permission first.
Your slow return to sleepiness arrives now with a yawn.
Growing feeling of headiness.
And a heaviness in your limbs.
You rise slowly.
Just when you feel ready.
With no clock to keep time.
You step off the porch.
Under the shelter.
Of a long wooden pergola.
That runs the length of the garden path.
The rain patters steadily.
Just beyond the beams above you.
Close enough.
To hear every drop.
Is far enough.
None of it touches you.
The overhang offers dry protection from the rain.
Wisteria spills down from the lattice overhead.
Heavy cascades.
Deep purple blossoms.
Drooping low and heavy with rain.
Your steps grow slower as you walk.
Without much intention.
Tiredness.
Moving in slowly with a storm.
Path beneath your feet.
A cool,
Slightly damp carpet of moss.
A low-lying mist.
Rises around your feet.
Silvery lavender hue.
Patanjali.
With its own slithering tide.
Forget me not.
Brush against your ankles as you pass.
Somewhere just beyond the garden.
Water collects.
A stone basin.
The steady drops are musical.
Almost dulcet tones.
That become a lullaby.
Without trying.
Or even considering.
Each step.
Brings you closer to sleep.
Each drop of rain.
Invites a little more tiredness.
A bit more surrender.
Storm stirs a yearning.
To settle in again for the night.
Sink into your blankets.
And let the rain play on.
Halfway down the pergola.
The lights of the tiny garden cottage.
Twinkle and flare through the rain.
It beckons you to come rest.
Simple cottage.
Space for when you see.
Comfort.
Solitude.
It's a special place.
Just for you.
Simple yet lofty space.
Dozens of small panes of glass.
Stained-glass designs.
Face the Rose Garden.
And create the blooms.
In an artistic mosaic.
Narrow stone path.
Leads you toward it.
The cool stones.
Massaging the arches of your feet.
As you scuttle along.
The rain reaches you briefly.
Before you arrive at the front step.
That leads into the cottage.
Stained-glass door is slightly ajar.
Welcoming you.
You push it gently.
Step inside.
Warm,
Dry air.
Wraps around you in an embrace.
Garden cottage.
The essence of a child's playhouse.
But it's more luxurious.
More equipped to offer the best comforts.
Cottage is reserved for you.
With every detail designed to suit your preferences.
There's a small basin of warm water and lavender oil.
Where you rinse the cool rain.
Remnants of the outdoors from your feet.
You dry off with a towel.
Been perfectly rolled in a wicker basket.
And feels warm.
Freshly pulled from the dryer.
It's a simple feeling.
But it resonates deep.
The warm cotton meets your skin.
Arriving at the garden cottage.
Feels almost like a holiday.
You never had to plan for.
Secret little retreat.
I was simply here.
Hidden away in the garden.
Whole time.
Waiting for when you need it and escape.
Escape from your thoughts.
From the noise of the world.
It's your private garden sanctuary.
The center of the room.
A king-sized four poster bed.
The mattress is remarkably plush.
Yet also firm and supportive.
Designed to cradle your body.
The way it needs.
Pillows are abundant.
Enough to make a cave around you if you choose.
The linens are cool and breathable.
Almost otherworldly.
Their soft and silky feel.
With a heavy duvet resting atop the sheets.
They offer all the comforts.
Of a five-star hotel.
There's a knitted blanket.
Folded neatly at the foot of the bed.
Stitched with patience and love.
It's the perfect way It's the kind of thing.
.
.
To make your whole body exhale.
Before you've even climbed beneath it.
A single voter.
An antique white glass lantern.
Waits to be lit by you.
You find an antique lighter.
And flick it on.
The wick catching the flame with ease.
Candle flickers.
And casts the room in a dance of soft,
Honeyed light.
Walls of the cottage.
Are lined with ivory wood.
Softened by the glow of the candle.
Is settled deeply.
Inhale to take in.
The smells of lavender.
Clean rain.
Roses and fresh linen.
Your eyes now so tired and heavy.
Scan the cottage.
Land on the skylight.
Stretches across the slanted ceiling.
Rain trails down the panes.
Winding,
Glittering streams.
Catching the light.
The single candle.
Along the far wall.
Mullioned windows.
Open just a crack.
Cool garden air.
Drifts steadily inside.
The perfect temperature.
For deep sleep.
You settle into the bed.
The mattress receives you completely.
You sink into it.
Like a smooth stone.
Drifting down,
Down,
Down.
The still depths of a riverbed.
That kept you stirring in the night.
Thoughts and feelings.
Dissolve in this space.
Tension melts.
As you enjoy a song.
Total settling.
Around you.
You pull the blanket up over your shoulders and it's away.
It's a good kind of heavy.
The kind that says.
You are held now.
Don't have to hold yourself.
Anymore.
Your body begins to catch up.
To where you already are.
Your feet go heavy first.
Sinking into the mattress.
Having carried you faithfully.
To this haven.
The leaded feeling.
Travel slowly up through your legs.
Until day two.
Surrender into the bed.
Your hips part just a hair.
Opening and settling as well.
Your belly rises and falls.
Softly.
And as easy as the falling rain.
Your chest softens with each breath.
Your ribs expand gently.
And let go.
Your shoulders sink down and away from your ears.
Driving the laughs.
Whatever the day left sitting there.
Your hands come to rest.
Loose and open.
Top of the duvet.
Feeling the cool air land on them.
Your expression softens.
Your face reveals contentment.
As you welcome the return of sleep.
It finds you.
Here Relax at ease.
Serene.
There's a special kind of bliss.
Reserved for being tucked in here.
The sweet little cottage.
Where you nestle.
And settle.
The rain still falls above you.
Soothing against the skylight glass.
Keeps you company.
Each drop works.
Carry something away.
Something that no longer serves you here.
Thoughts that once stir.
Softening.
Fading at the edges.
Dissolved in the rain.
You never need to look for.
I wait for sleep.
It always finds you.
Your body knows how to welcome it now.
Tucked into.
This nest of comfort.
This space.
Imagined by you.
A magical place.
Where sleep waits for you.
Comforting warm cottage.
And its sturdy walls.
Seemed to whisper with the rain.
They offer the promise.
All is well here.
That you are safe.
The bed keeps you supported.
Intended to.
The rain continues to patter.
With a promise.
It's sleep-inducing song.
Will continue.
Long after you've fallen back to sleep.
Just as the cottage.
Promises to offer the soothing getaway.
Where you are safe and dry.
Far away.
From all that kept you up.
Into the night.
Becomes a shield from all distractions.
It's a sanctuary.
Healing.
And resetting.
You linger.
The in-between wakefulness and sleep.
Floating in the space.
Where dreams begin.
You revel in the bone-deep,
Reassuring sense.
All will be okay You follow this feeling.
Intoxicating sense of safety and freedom.
Simply dress.
Every breath brings you closer to rest once more.
And if and when.
A stray thought arrives.
It moves like one more raindrop.
Landing on the skylight glass.
Arriving.
Slipping.
Until it's gone.
You don't have to catch it.
You don't have to follow it anywhere.
It runs its course down the glass.
Disappears into the night.
You are so cozy in this garden cottage.
Tucked beneath the rain.
Clouds.
The stars.
The hiding full moon.
But you finally let go all the way.
Nothing waiting.
On this other side of sleep.
That can't wait a little longer.
Sleep becomes too alluring to resist.
This place of warmth.
Rain and rest.
You slowly get lost.
The soft spaces between the reins.
You find yourself lingering.
The pauses between my words.
And slowly without expectation.
And so very gradually.
You let go of my voice.
Great sleep fully.
Welcoming it back.
With all its restoration and softness.
The rainy world.
The Glistening Garden.
Fade away.
Finding peace.
Finding bliss.
Finding sleep.
It's time to dream away.
