Fall into a deep sleep tonight as you listen to this bedtime story and guided meditation for adults return to the Cotswolds in the English countryside where time has cast its beauty upon the golden limestone walls of quaint cottages over centuries.
On the cusp of fall,
The warm afternoon weather is changed when a storm rolls in.
The village is like a recurring dream,
A place you have ventured to before and are always welcome to return to.
As the rain begins to fall,
You seek shelter in a charming bed and breakfast where the innkeeper knows you by name.
Treated like family,
You retreat to your cozy suite and fall asleep to the sounds of rain.
It's time to dream away.
I would like to welcome you to Michelle's Sanctuary.
I am Michelle and as you are listening,
You may think of my voice as that of a dear friend and guide.
My intention is to make you feel relaxed and comfortable and worthy of all the good feelings that come when you take care of your needs.
You deserve this time for yourself each day to do everything you can to feel safe,
Loved,
And tended to.
I am here to be the soothing bridge between your waking and sleeping life.
Solutions await you in your dreams and all concerns will be answered in due time.
As you drift,
You may focus on the soft silences between words or simply float to sleep before the story's end if that feels best.
You know what is best for you and may customize every detail of this journey together to what you most desire and need.
Right now you have the sacred time to connect to your imagination and conjure up the most beautiful multi-sensory experiences.
Every night at bedtime there is a chance to take a vacation to wherever your mind desires.
So get cozy and cuddle up beneath your bedding.
You are safe to let down your guard.
Feel your body release and align every nook and cranny,
Every joint and curve of your physical body with the softness of your bed and pillows.
Let go of everything.
Cast it away onto the night sky and let it float to a place things go when they are simply no longer needed.
Feel your body become heavy and sink down.
Your muscles are relaxed and as soft as a floating in water.
With your eyes closed and heavily resting on your tired eyes,
Turn your attention to your breath.
Take in a big sip of air before you exhale in an audible sigh if that feels good to you.
And again inhale deeply to the deepest cavern of your lower abdomen.
Feel your belly and chest rise and open your mouth into a generous yawn.
Then sigh.
Feel your torso cascade down.
Your spine nestles into your bed like a string of pearls.
Finally set upon the plush velvet interior of a jewelry box.
Letting go.
Inhale deeply and feel your chest rise.
And this time exhale through pursed lips as if you were blowing through a straw.
Your breath is your vehicle.
Would you imagine floating on this stream of air as it travels through the space between your lips?
You ride along with this air through time and space to a summer's day in the Cotswolds.
Your feet land on the emerald grass of a pasture that acts as a pillowy cushion.
A summer breeze creates ripples in the verdant grass and wildflowers that ebb down the hills of the English countryside.
A few blades of grass rise above your ankles and softly caress your skin.
The greenery is dappled with wildflowers that appear like rainbow confetti and fragrant the air with floral notes that marry the smell of fresh grass.
And in all the decades that candle makers and perfumers have tried to create an aroma called clean,
None have succeeded in the way Mother Nature has in the Cotswolds.
You close your eyes and feel the hot sun on your face.
You are dressed in a style of clothing you do not often wear,
But it is perfectly suited for a holiday in the Cotswolds.
You walk past a field of sunflowers and a meadow where sheep graze.
A walking path leads you to a footbridge that arcs over a brook.
For the first time in 150 years,
The species known as the large blue butterfly has resettled in the bucolic landscape.
You watch at least a dozen of these butterflies flutter overhead.
Their iridescent dusky blue wings are edged with black and speckled with ebony dots.
You imagine their ancestors fluttering through the countryside when the world was a quieter and simpler place.
Puffy clouds drift across the cornflower blue sky and cover the sun,
Giving you a moment of reprieve from the record-breaking heat of the day.
You follow a road that leads to the village,
And every now and then you pass a limestone cottage.
The limestone facades gleam in the summer light and appear as vibrant as the yellow hues of pollen.
You walk by gardens,
Well maintained and abundant with a summer harvest of squash and tomatoes and strawberries.
The people of the Cotswolds are friendly,
And when you greet a resident as you pass by,
They offer you a fresh picked strawberry from their garden.
At first you feel modest and politely decline,
But the plump red berry is so appealing and they insist you take the sweet fruit and bite on it,
Feeling the juice cascade down your throat.
It refreshes you from the heat,
And you thank the kind soul for sharing this.
You know any future encounters with strawberries will conjure your memory of this generous moment in the English countryside.
It serves as a reminder that simplicity is the ultimate sophistication.
Darker clouds roll in overhead,
And the breeze brings with it a slight chill.
You welcome the cool air that is a signal of rain on the way,
As well as a reminder that fall is not so far away either.
The clean smell of summer is now replaced with a salty and metallic aroma of incoming rain.
You arrive in the village and walk by the limestone cottages that are now more abundant and built closer together.
The blue sky has become a steely grey,
And plum black-edged storm clouds slowly move towards the village.
The colors of the stone homes appear all the more saturated and radiant in their cinematic golden hue,
Contrasting the muted tones of the sky.
As you step into the heart of the village,
You feel as though you are revisiting a dream that you have longed to experience again.
It's like entering a faded childhood memory of a vacation spot.
It makes you feel connected to a sense of safety and familiarity.
When you walk through this Cotswolds village,
You feel as if the special place remembers you as well as you remember it.
You're home away from home,
Here to welcome you whenever you return,
Regardless of how much time has passed.
You notice the change from walking on the lush grassy knolls of the countryside to the stone path of the village.
The earth is now firm beneath your feet,
Conjures a sense of strength and endurance.
A soft mist rolls in and hovers over the glistening stones like an apparition.
The village has the bustle of summer visitors,
But the impending storm inspires everyone to take cover.
Some people tuck into the small shops and a bookstore that line the main street.
You're not in greet them as you walk along,
Feel welcomed by their warm smiles and joyous energy.
The proprietor of the inns and pubs are just as welcoming,
And some of their faces are familiar and etched in your mind with as much clarity as the faces of dear friends from long ago.
You run your fingers across the tendrils of ivy that grow down a quaint limestone home.
They are vibrant shades of green and cascade down the amber stone that is weather worn and has been imprinted with fossils of sea urchins and coral.
The ivy reminds you of lush seaweed brought in by the sea to rest on wet golden sand.
You carefully run your hand across the coarse stone,
Feeling flashes of beauty throughout history that come to you in quick images like in a dream.
You recall other times you have run your fingers across an object and picked up the energy and story it holds.
The limestone walls of the Cotswolds remind you of your inner strength.
The fossils remain on the limestone like impressions of time that are carried within you and express themselves through laugh lines and scars.
However your life has played out,
You are still here,
Remaining curious and vibrant and strong like the spirit of this beloved village.
The warm glow of lights within old windows pours out into the darkness brought by the incoming storm.
You follow this angelic light,
Walking into the heart of the village.
A band plays inside a pub that you pass and the melody carries out onto the street,
Reverberating into small alleys of the village and fate whispers.
For a moment you take in a deep breath and sigh.
You close your eyes and feel deep gratitude.
For this is life,
All the impressions and sensory experiences of being in tune with what is happening right now.
Even the mind may drift to thoughts about your life situation,
But those are merely thoughts and your perception of the situation is merely an imagined framework.
You'd much rather focus on life,
On the cool breeze and smell of flowers and rain,
The sensation of wind-swept hair and the beating of your heart.
These sensations fill the deepest reservoir within you that may overflow with gratitude,
Hope and inspiration.
It feels nice to be welcome always to this friendly place in the world.
The road begins to narrow and you travel deeper into the residential part of the village.
Many townspeople have retreated to the cottages that are stacked like mustard-hued blocks.
You glimpse into the windows of these storybook homes,
Catching glimpses of other lives,
As if watching vignettes in a film.
One old lady rocks in a chair with a delicate cup of tea in her wrinkled hand.
Her other hand rests on the back of a calico cat that sleeps comfortably atop a blanket on her lap.
The cat's tail is wrapped around her curled up body so she may use its tip as a fluffy pillow beneath her chin.
The lady and kitty appear very relaxed and content.
And the scene gives you a sense of warmth as the first cold splats of rain begin to fall.
A breeze begins to whip around the narrow streets as you continue to walk.
You give yourself a gentle hug and rub your hands against your bare arms.
On the cusp of being cold,
Your body still carries the warmth of the afternoon sun on your sun-kissed skin.
The road begins to incline over a rolling hill and you see a strike of lightning in the distance.
You are grateful to be a shy distance away from the inn where you have always stayed in the Cotswolds.
The rain begins to fall heavier and large drops splat against the surrounding homes and streets.
They fall on your lips and you taste the water that is as clean as the air in the rolling meadows.
Your hair and face are soon wet and the rain invigorates you and reminds you that this is life happening to you right now.
You can feel,
Smell and taste it.
The wet stones smell flinty and the fragrance from the nearby woodlands wafts on the breeze of the damp air that hits your face,
Smelling of rich,
Sweet earth.
In the darkness you see the soft glow of the inn where you are staying.
There is a long narrow driveway and the incline alerts you of your tiredness that begins to take over.
Your muscles slightly burn with the contentment that follows a day full of exertion and adventures.
Even as you exert more energy,
Your lungs feel relaxed and each breath comes easily.
The top of the driveway widens beneath an awning,
An entryway to this grand mansion.
You turn around and look out over the rolling hills set behind the golden glow of the village.
Everything shoots across the sky and illuminates the outlines of the peaked roofs and limestones in a display of silver flashes and gold reflections.
Storm clouds are lined with amethyst and ebony underbellies and roll in steadily.
You have arrived just in time to enjoy the storm from the safety at the inn.
You enter the main door and are instantly greeted by the innkeeper,
Lilian.
A warm wave of air hits the cool outside air.
As the door opens and then closes behind you,
Lilian's accent delivers words in a kind song as she greets you by name and with a warm pat on your back.
Her family has maintained this charming inn for generations and at times you have been let down a hallway that serves as a gallery of her ancestors and the guests who have visited throughout a century.
Lilian brings a soft towel and helps dry your hair and your face.
You thank her.
The smells of the inn take you back to your last visit.
Notes of tea,
Baked goods,
Dried lavender and burning wood weave together in an aromatic elixir that brings you peace and a sleepy feeling.
Lilian walks to an antique marble-top table and lifts a pot of tea to pour it into a cup.
From memory she prepares it exactly to your liking.
She then prepares a plate with freshly baked muffins made from local berries and brings them to you.
A couple congregates in the main room by a fire started right before your arrival.
It was hard to imagine a fire would be desired when you walked beneath the heat of the late afternoon sun.
But the storm has lowered the temperature and dampened the air so that warm tea and a roaring fire are the perfect antidotes.
You sit by the fire and are greeted by the other guests.
Lilian asks if you need anything and explains she has left a care package in your room.
She wants to make sure all your needs are met and your heart radiates with a feeling of love and appreciation as warm as the heat of the flickering flames in the fireplace.
She places the tasseled keychain and skeleton key to your room into the palm of your hand.
You run your fingers over the fringe.
She says good night and you are left to listen to soft murmurs of fellow guests and the crackling fire.
You finish the muffin and the silky tea cascades down your throat following the tiny crumbs.
You are satiated and quite tired.
For a moment you watch the rain cascade down the old windows and the marmalade flames lick the soot covered walls of the fireplace.
This room has warmed so many souls over the decades,
Offering respite from the cold.
You once again feel grateful.
Tiredness takes over and you rise and say good night to the couple.
You continue towards the grand mahogany staircase and familiar sapphire and ivory patterned rug that cascades down the steps.
You often dream of this flowing carpet because it reminds you of the beloved place for sleep that exists in this inn.
You walk on it and ascend one step at a time.
And like before,
You feel as if you are floating upon the wave crests of the Atlantic.
Your tired body feels heavier with each step as you ascend.
One step at a time,
Counting as you go.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Seven.
Eight.
Nine.
Ten.
Eleven.
Twelve.
You arrive at the landing and turn towards the room where you always stay.
Walking down the long cavernous hallway,
The sound of the rain intensifies.
It falls on the roof and streams down the windows that line the hall.
You arrive at the heavy wooden door of your room and insert the skeleton key into the lock.
It softly clicks and the door opens into your cozy suite lit by colorful glass lamps that warmly glow.
You walk towards an antique end table.
Place the key onto it.
You discover a gift basket placed on the armchair.
It contains cotton pajamas with an embroidered message.
Dream away.
There is a bottle of lavender spray that you spritz on your neck and the sateen pillow cases on the bed.
You change into the buttery soft pajamas.
The fabric feels light and cool on your skin.
You remove a toothbrush from the basket and toothpaste.
Prepare to brush your teeth.
You walk to the bathroom and it is regal with artistic brass fixtures and a deep old fashioned sink.
You brush your teeth and then splash cold water on your face.
A bar of soap made by a villager is embedded with dried wildflowers picked from the nearby meadow.
You run the bar across your face and are brought back to your afternoon in the fields.
You wash away the lather and your skin now feels soft and clean.
You return to the bedroom and walk to church style windows that you have looked out before.
They form a peak beneath the ceiling and they end just above the wooden floor.
You look out to watch the raindrops cascading down the colorful stained glass panes like tears of joy.
Lightning flashes and creates colorful prisms in the raindrops while also illuminating the jewel tones of the stained glass.
Thunder rolls in the distance.
The pelts of rain create this gentle rhythm that lulls you into a trance state.
You cannot recall the last time you felt so perfectly primed for sleep.
Your body feels heavy and tired.
You approach the high canopy bed and peel back the hand sewn quilt made with patches of soft and colorful cotton.
The room is suddenly illuminated by silvery white flashes of lightning.
Thunder continues to roll through the grassy hills that protect the estate like soft waves of dark green.
Your eyelids close heavily upon your eyes and you sink deeper and deeper down,
Ready to drift off to sleep.
You inhale and softly sigh like a sleeping baby as you go deeper and deeper within,
Letting go of my voice,
Floating away like the streams of rain that fall on the stained glass windows,
Drifting and drifting,
Letting go,
Ready for sleep.
You take in a deep breath and inhale the fragrant lavender spray.
From head to toe,
Your body is awash in a feeling of contentment.
But remember the last time you felt so relaxed and I am going to count you down.
With each count,
You may float further and further away from my voice into the sleep that awaits.
Ten,
Nine,
Eight,
Seven,
Six,
Five,
Four,
Three,
Two,
One.
Finding peace,
Finding respite,
Finding escape,
Finding healing,
Finding sleep.
It's time to dream away.
Good night.
