Magical healing sleep awaits in this bedtime story for grown-ups.
You are listening to Painted Wishes,
A new journey in the Witches Cottage series.
Whether you are returning to this healing home in the Enchanted Forest or whether this is your first visit,
Three sisters await you on an enchanting summer evening.
Manifest your dreams beneath a peachy pink fingernail moon as paintbrushes dance across the canvas and anything feels possible.
Revel in a world of maternal dreams in the celebration of you just as you arrive tonight.
It's time to dream away.
Welcome to Michelle's Sanctuary.
I am Michelle and cordially invite you to enjoy the sanctuary of your room and mind with a sense of gratitude for making it through another day.
Think of my voice as the voice of a sleep fairy and companion.
As I help you reconnect.
With a boundless wonder.
Of your imagination.
There's nothing to worry about now.
Nothing more to do.
Simply embrace this delicate space between wakefulness and dreams where a new moon rises.
Hope quietly blossoms before ushering you to sleep.
Relax in your favorite position now.
Getting as comfy as you can.
Feel the support beneath you.
Reminder you are always supported in the smallest ways.
Even when you don't notice.
You no longer need to hold anything together.
You no longer need to hold yourself up.
Feel a lightness as you inhale and expand.
And claim all the space you can.
And then let out a sigh.
Casting away anything that may dare to disrupt this time for peace,
Feel your breath become the simplest kind of spell.
Single breath.
And change your mood and spirit.
It can change your trajectory.
Your breaths carried you faithfully,
Even without noticing it.
Since your very first moment of life.
Each inhalation gathers a little quiet magic.
Each yawn becomes a sleepy elixir.
And each sigh is a cleansing release.
Continue to inhale and expand.
Maybe yawn and then sigh as I count us down.
Trust your own magic.
And you may change any detail you like.
And great sleep.
Whenever it feels best.
Bye shimmering cascade of emerald light.
Drifts through the forest of your mind.
Surrounding you with a nurturing maternal energy.
It travels over the crown of your head and face.
Softening into a content expression.
Your jaw releases and your shoulders drop from your ears.
4 Golden sparkles form a band.
Spiraling around the green.
Bringing softness to your throat.
And then your heart.
This light fills your chest with hope and warmth that spreads out.
Three.
.
.
A soft ribbons of green and gold.
Weave down through your arms.
Over your hands.
To the very tips of your fingers.
That open to the night.
Ready to receive.
To.
The glimmering light traces down your spine.
Your back muscles release.
The light continues to ease tension in your hips,
Your legs,
Making its way all the way down to your feet.
When the emerald and gilded night now contains you from head to toe,
Soft and reassuring.
Magic remains and leaves you so perfectly calm.
And in this state of serenity,
The story begins.
The enchanted forest greets you in summer like a velvet hug.
The air is soft and warm.
Just the perfect way.
Giving you a delightful awareness.
Of your physical presence.
The breeze rustles the leaves of the white birch trees.
Where the fairies reside.
But they're nowhere to be found right now.
As the night has invited them.
Create a little mischief at the quarry.
They dance across the still teal water.
The damp mossy earth.
Takes on a nocturnal purple sheen.
As the faint sliver of a moon rises.
Pink and delicate.
Barely there.
Beauty is more magnetic than ever.
And your eyes can't keep from rising to the sky.
And taking it all in.
The enchantress in the moon is also nowhere to be seen.
Perhaps she's drifting through the constellations tonight.
The myriad of stars gives such room for play.
And you walk lightly below them.
With a small slip of paper in your hand.
The parchment is unmistakably from the three sisters.
Note asking you to join them on this special night.
Although to the witches.
Every night is special.
But as you walk toward the cottage.
Paper begins to change.
Becomes blank at first.
Sparkling light appears.
Forming words in elegant calligraphy.
Join us here,
It reads,
And an illustrated map of the forest appears.
It's not so much unlike modern day maps.
And tracking your journey.
Of the landmarks and place names.
Are in a bookish,
Old-world font.
Neon purple ink illuminates your journey.
Squiggling lime.
Takes you somewhere you've yet to go before.
The map shows you.
You must cross the stream to the other side.
Go beyond the quarry where the fairies now gather.
To the field of forget-me-nots and clover.
You concentrate on it.
Seeing a cranberry pink heart that marks your movement.
Beating with the same cadence as your very own.
Slow,
Steady and trusting.
When you peer at the mossy stones before your feet.
The neon navigation line.
Jumps off the page.
Drawing a real life path through the forest.
The witches are so clear with instruction.
Never wanting you to feel unseen and heard.
Unsupported.
And sure enough.
.
.
Without announcement.
The faithful fox appears as well.
Your sweet guide who always shows up with each visit.
Quiet reassuring copper creature.
Makes you his shadow.
His bright eyes find yours.
Glistening saucers of knowing warmth.
He looks at you in the way the longest friends do.
Eye contact lingering just a little longer.
No need for words to be spoken.
For all to be understood.
Without a sound,
He turns and begins leading you deeper into the woods.
Floating purple sparkling navigation line.
Hovers just above him.
Every now and then.
He veers away from the path.
As he's small enough.
To tuck beneath fallen branches.
And skirt around tree trunks.
But you stay true to the path.
Canopy of trees forms a cathedral overhead.
The branches seemed to lean inward.
Almost curious about your presence.
And what tonight holds.
You arrive at the narrowest part of the stream.
And watch the fox.
Gracefully leap across rounded old stepping stones.
You soon find your balance.
Stepping on the first stone.
Feeling the slight cool mist of the stream.
And circle your ankles.
This night unfolds like an old fairy tale.
But without the dark edges.
Are lessons to be learned.
Wildflowers perfume the summer air.
The sweet scent of honeysuckle.
Mingling with a clean mineral aroma of the stream.
Almost makes the air taste like a silver spoon.
Owl hoots.
The forest begins to become less dense.
Your steps grow lighter.
The purple glittering path that led you here.
Suddenly disappears.
The earth becomes more mysterious.
In the dark cast of night.
And the trees gently part.
Willows are divided by the breeze.
Like stage curtains drawn slowly back.
You run afew of the tendrils.
Delightfully through the webbing in your fingers.
Catching up to the Fox.
You arrive at the enchanting meadow of forget-me-nots and clover.
The light changes.
In the most mesmerizing way.
Thousands of fireflies rise and fall in slow pulses that match the beating of your heart.
The map that led you here.
Rises to join them.
Exploding in a small puff of gold dust.
Before scattering and landing on the earth.
Many stars as fireflies.
Glitter through the open sky.
Leaving a soft silver light.
On the meadow.
Forget me not,
Blanket to the ground.
In rich violet and blue.
Emerald clover ripple in waves.
Down the knoll.
Everything flutters.
This perfect magical breeze.
Does its very best to remind you.
The world can be soft and dreamy.
The delicate fingernail moon.
Glows with a soft morganite blush.
Peachy and pink.
Against a deep indigo sky.
It has the same ethereal lightness of the night.
And in the center of the meadow.
Four easels stand waiting.
Made of wood that captures the nocturnal reflections.
Behind them.
You see the beloved shapes.
Carla,
Cora and Ava The sisters are dressed in their diaphanous summer robes.
Long billowing silt.
Shades of amethyst,
Ruby,
And sapphire.
Singed at their waists with black velvet ribbons.
The sisters balance palettes in their hands.
With sparkles traveling from the tips of paintbrushes.
A blanket is strewn across the clover and flowers.
Surrounded by candles.
Abundant platter of fruits.
And a small table where chalices rest on a silver tray.
Embedded with gemstone.
Are waiting for your arrival.
Each sister looks up.
Beaming with warmth in their twinkling eyes and radiant smiles.
They've been waiting for some time.
Are so joyous to see you descend the hill.
Come to them.
The fox dashes ahead.
Weaving between their skirts with a certain pride that he's done his job.
You follow behind.
Curious about what the witches have in store for tonight.
As you draw closer.
The witches embrace you carefully.
Their practiced hands,
Keeping brushes and palette in the air overhead.
So as to not get the paint on you.
Carla purrs in her low and steady voice.
That each new moon offers a ceremonious time.
Cast your wishes into the night.
Lovingly imagine the world at large.
And the world within you.
Healing and restoring itself.
With a little magic.
Cora gleefully pipes in.
That these enchanted paintings aren't fortune tellers.
They illuminate the hopes that you feel deserve your attention.
Little love and hope can go a long way.
She expresses in her sing-song voice.
Ava comes forward.
Gives you a wooden palette.
Smoothed by time.
With dried paint specks from long ago wishes.
Remaining in a confetti pattern.
Along its edge.
You take your place before the untouched canvas between Carla and Cora.
The fox curls up in the grass near Ava.
Carla dips her brush into shimmering greens,
Blues and golds.
Her expression turning maternal.
Tender yet strong.
Her canvas begins to glow from within.
Before raising your own brush.
You watch her put the finishing touches.
And a dreamy impressionist depiction of the earth.
Oceans and deserts.
Forests and mountains.
Suddenly.
Floating orb of living light.
Hovers above the easel and then expands and grows.
Floats into the meadow before you.
The size of a round greenhouse.
And within it.
Her brushstrokes come to life.
This is Carla's wish.
Forests regenerate.
Vibrant new growth.
Green clusters.
Clear rivers sparkle and mirror the sky.
Winding through lush valleys.
The oceans deepen.
Into a vibrant cobalt blue.
Teeming quietly with life.
Waters return to their natural coolness.
The weather softens.
Gentle and nourishing.
Animals move freely and thrive.
Communities tend the places they call home.
Visible,
Overwhelming care.
Children grower.
Treasuring the beauty that surrounds them.
Rather than mourning what's been lost.
They hold on to their connection to replenishing the Earth.
Throughout their lifetimes.
The whole matter seems to hold its breath.
This is Carla's hopeful vision.
Turns and glimmers.
Then gradually ascends toward the promising new moon.
You feel something in your own chest soften at the sight of it.
Becoming warm with hope.
The hope that brings the change.
Any soul wishes to see.
For it all begins with a dream.
Cora,
The youngest sister.
Smile softly before choosing her final colors.
Blues,
Lavender,
And silver.
Her brush moves with fervor.
In shorter strokes.
That capture people around the world interacting.
Eyes enchanted.
Faces relax.
Arms extended.
Compassion and connection.
And soon her painting becomes an orb as well.
Another glowing sphere rising.
High above the canvas.
Landing like a big bubble.
On the verdant carpet.
It plays out in holographic forms.
To witness the coming together of humanity.
Differences amongst curious souls.
Become invitations for deeper understanding.
Empathy and common ground.
Replace polarity.
Division.
All these souls.
Are no longer focused.
Being perceived as right or stronger or superior.
Instead they focus.
And peace and connection.
Compassion spreads quietly.
The way warmth spreads through a room.
And a fire in the hearth is stoked.
Hands that were once in fists.
Slowly open to receive.
Sound bites are no longer as important as true conversations.
Korra's voice is soft.
As she watches her own vision unfold.
Drift toward the new moon.
Peace doesn't arrive all at once,
" she says.
More to herself than to you.
Grows one heart at a time.
It's Eva's turn to finish her painting now.
And her unexpected laughter cuts through the night.
It's a bright,
Melodious sound.
It brings a sense of levity.
Even though you and her sisters.
.
.
Don't know the source of her joy.
Ava paints and paints.
Choosing fiery golds,
Sunset orange,
Flamingo pink.
From a distance you only see her capturing many seasons.
Many moments throughout a day and night.
As she finishes.
The long,
Swirling brushstroke from top to bottom.
The canvas comes to life.
Floating into another orb.
That expands.
Rises.
And then softly land.
A mosaic of moments.
Her vision playfully captures golden fires,
Moonlit picnics.
Shared teas and forest dances.
You see glimpses of journeys taken beside you.
Experiences with the witches.
He recognized like distant dreams.
And in her depicted memories and projections.
Fairies and animals of the forest.
Join every celebration.
There is music.
Laughter.
Countless evenings gathered beneath the stars.
Some with snowdrifts.
Rise around an icy pond.
Others with lush autumnal leaves.
Falling to the earth.
And summer nights.
Rife with Fireflies Her orb glows.
With a particular kind of warmth.
It's the warmth of belonging.
That you feel right now.
Fox recognizes his presence in this orb.
And chases it as it rises overhead.
Darting through the forget-me-not.
While you all laugh together.
Unguarded and light.
When the laughter settles,
The sisters give you time to consider.
Things you wish to manifest.
You take your time.
There's no pressure or hurry.
A fresh canvas waits on its own easel.
Hell plane.
And full of possibility.
You gather one of the enchanted brushes.
And balance the palate in your hands.
No one asks you to explain your dream before you begin.
Like a dream.
Your painting comes alive with ease and grace.
The painting experience.
Like never before.
Your arm intuitively.
It swept away with motions.
As a special manifestation.
Comes to life.
The canvas.
You feel the witches.
Lovingly looking on.
Kind of attention.
Might normally cause one to become self-conscious.
In their maternal gaze.
You know,
Whatever you create.
Will be celebrated.
Honor.
The witch is never questioned.
Whether your dream is practical or makes sense.
They don't demand how it might come to be.
They know you're a powerful being.
Whatever faithfully lives inside you.
Belongs here.
And may come to life.
You watch as the painting nearly completes itself.
You lift the brush.
One last time.
.
.
Feeling light and almost eager in your grasp.
You dip it in too.
Whatever colors most resonate.
And the final touches.
Go exactly where they need to.
Your hand is guided by an unseen force.
Magically in alignment.
With all you wish to create.
Slowly your picture begins to glow.
The way the others did.
Spectacular light.
Rising up from beneath the surface of the paint.
It forms the final orb of the night.
Basking in the faint pink glow of the moon.
Expanding and settling.
Sister's Watch.
Gerard slowly turns like a carousel.
Revealing new details.
With every rotation.
So your wish is too beautiful.
Seen all at once.
Even you hadn't realized.
All that was quietly waiting to bloom within it.
It represents all you wish to manifest.
Will you dare to dream?
Coming to life before you.
The vision of it.
So real.
And so true.
You feel it creating its own library in your mind.
Becomes a sanctuary.
All to itself.
And I hope you may return,
Dear,
On the most challenging days and nights.
The sisters simply smile and begin to clap.
You don't need to explain yourself or your intentions.
These sisters celebrate your authenticity without question.
Without needing to understand.
Every detail or rationale.
They trust that what comes from your heart.
Worth honoring simply because it's yours.
The orb joins the others overhead.
Becoming one more hopeful light.
Drifting beneath the new moon.
Joining the celestial expanse.
Twinkling star.
The four orbs.
Soon become indistinguishable from one another.
For a moment.
You think you catch a glimpse of the enchantress in the sky.
Embracing them.
The ritual complete.
Sisters settle on the blanket.
And invite you to follow.
You raise your chalices in a toast to all that is beautiful and kind.
And sip the sparkling tonics.
The bubbles are sprightly.
Dancing down your throat.
And you laugh at the tickling sensation.
As the forest beyond begins to sleep.
You too find a way of sleepiness arriving.
You help the three sisters pack everything up.
Toting it back to the cottage.
With a dreamy ease.
The fox leads you the way home.
His tail a flickering torch.
Through the darkened trees.
And you follow.
Feeling a pleasant burn in your cheeks.
That comes from a night of smiles and laughter.
Not long before the lanterns glow warmly through the cottage windows.
Welcoming you back The fox returns to his den.
As Carla opens the fence door.
Twisting wood that whines like licorice sticks.
Herbs in the garden.
Dabbled with iridescent dew.
And the smell of summer blooms.
Fills the air Once inside.
The cat that calls you hers.
Pattering forward.
And rubs against your legs.
Soothing purr.
Cottage is warm and cozy.
The air circulating through the mullioned windows.
Slightly ajar You settle in a familiar chair by the hearth.
As the cattle is prepared.
Soon begins to bubble.
Hot water that becomes tea.
And he is leisurely asleep.
And the animated chatter.
The witches in the meadow.
Now reduced to soft murmurs.
Just as it was with a fox.
Soon no words need to be spoken.
You settle into.
Quiet understanding.
It's simply enough.
Near them.
This home away from home.
In this realm that always reminds you.
Keep your spark of hope ignited.
Wrapped in their easy company.
Not long before it becomes a fight.
Keep your eyes open.
As yawn after infectious yawn.
Spreads between you and the sisters.
Carl is the first to rise and gives the biggest hug.
Saying she looks forward to seeing you all in the morning.
The other sisters follow.
Wishing you a good night.
As you linger a few moments.
Peering out the window.
Knowing somewhere out there.
Dreams are in play.
Beneath the hope of a new moon.
Moments later,
You find yourself in cotton pajamas.
In your cozy,
Ill cove.
Safe in the bed.
Comforted by the soft pressure.
Of a sleepy kitty.
You drift into the healing embrace of sleep.
Feeling safe.
Love.
And hopeful.
You give in to the sweet surrender of slumber.
Fading slowly but surely toward blissful dreams.
Finding enchantment.
Finding hope.
Finding sleep.
It's time to dream away.
