Stormy Night In Barbados: Rainy Bedtime Story

Surrender to slumber with the serenade of a tropical storm with tonight's rainy sleepy story, "'Stormy Night in Barbados." As you listen to this bedtime story, enjoy a tranquil beach stroll, savoring the powdery sand and aquamarine waves before the weather shifts. Seek refuge in a historic pink guesthouse aglow with candlelight as the Caribbean storm unfolds. Drift to sleep on a cozy canopy bed, cradled by the soothing sounds of rain and thunder. It's time to dream away.

Transcript

Let the stormy moments of tonight's calm bedtime story usher you into a deep sleep.

You are listening to Stormy Night in Barbados.

In this rainy story for adults,

A Caribbean storm brings the lively island of Barbados to a slowdown as islanders retreat to their homes to take cover.

The storm offers a perfect night for hunkering down and taking in Mother Nature's majestic powers.

In the safety of a villa,

You watch the dark clouds roll in and revel in a cozy candlelit night.

It's time to dream away.

Welcome to Michelle's Sanctuary.

I am Michelle,

Your imaginative co-creator in this mental holiday.

Let the sounds of rain and rustling palm fronds usher you into a peaceful sleep,

Knowing you are comfortable and safe in the sanctuary of your room and mind.

You may wish to subscribe before you settle to come back to this story at any point.

And always feel free to leave suggestions and requests in the comments as we build this community together.

Customize every detail of this story to what you desire and need right now.

Every listen will be different,

In tune with your present whims.

Right now,

I encourage you to move about and wiggle and shake off any lingering energy from the day.

Come to stillness when you are ready,

And sink into the softness of your bed,

Recognizing it exists solely to bring you rest and support.

As we embark on a brief relaxation,

To better prepare for the tale about to unfold,

You may ponder all the things that exist to support and calm you,

Starting with yourself and your innate ability to self-soothe.

As you turn deeper within,

You can feel the tropical winds make their way through your room,

Adding an air of softness and the sweet aromas of flowers and surf.

The mystical tropical winds match the slow rhythm of your breath as you let out a deep sigh,

Make a sound,

And luxuriate in release.

Imagine the warm,

Humid air softens your muscles and kisses your skin as you inhale deeply deeply.

Feel your lungs and chest expand as you relax and revel in taking all the space you can in this paradise of your own design.

Yawn if it helps you welcome sleepiness,

And let out a sigh.

Enjoy two more rounds of conscious breathing as you inhale,

Perhaps yawn,

And sigh.

Visualize each incoming molecule of oxygen traveling in blue waves,

The hue of the Caribbean Sea,

Ushering peace to your nerve cells and muscles.

As you breathe in and breathe out,

As you inhale tranquility,

As you release with your exhalations,

Perhaps these are the deepest breaths you've taken today.

You've earned every single one.

When you are ready,

Let your breathing return to its easy,

Natural pace.

Snuggle and find stillness as we travel to Barbados as the story begins.

The small island of Barbados,

Located in the South Caribbean Sea,

Is the farthest east of all the Caribbean islands.

Hailing from the Spanish word,

Los Barbados,

Or Portuguese words,

Os Barbados,

Meaning the bearded ones,

There is some speculation that the name pays homage to the bearded fig trees in gullies.

These trees were far more plentiful centuries ago,

With long brown aerial roots that hang down like curtains,

Offering refuge for monkeys and bats.

Others believe the name refers to the sudsy white sea foam formations on the abundant reefs,

Appearing like white beards.

And through the layers of time and change,

Influenced by West African,

Portuguese,

Creole,

Indian and British cultures,

Barbados is uniquely its own.

The rocks underlying the island consist of shale,

Clay and sand,

Which began to form land 70 million years ago.

And now,

Sugarcane cultivated for centuries brings soft shades of fluttering green to the inland,

While coral and white sand beaches edge along the brilliant aquamarine sea.

You stand on the veranda of a modest villa,

A guesthouse really.

The abundant golden sunlight pours into the lofty open air space,

With ceilings that rise toward the cerulean sky.

The doors remain open to the home,

Letting in the sea breeze,

Peering out onto the water.

The ocean and sky are endless soulmates of varying shades of blue.

Their gradients of blue hues change slowly.

Only the perceived beginning and end give an indication of how much they darken and vary throughout.

So much blue and clarity betray any thought of the storm on its way.

But since the island was first inhabited by humankind,

As with all the magical islands in the Caribbean,

Mother Nature was quick to teach how the weather can change with a moment's spin of the winds and storm clouds.

You swing on a hammock,

Sipping a sweet tea,

Or perhaps an Arnold Palmer or coconut water,

Feeling the cool beverage soothe your throat after an early dinner.

The air is hot and humid,

And the winds are remarkably calm.

The only indication of changing weather patterns is seen in the behavior of birds that seem to be more anxious and busy,

As if preparing to take refuge.

All week,

The forecast has forewarned of a tropical storm,

With gale-force winds and inches of rain.

You rise from the hammock and saunter down the veranda steps,

To follow a path beneath a canopy of palm fronds that softly rustle overhead,

Offering a reprieve from the late afternoon light.

You decide to enjoy a walk on the beach.

But at sea,

Sailboats make their way back to the marina,

Their ivory sails standing out against the blue skies.

Puffy white clouds move in,

Adding to the canvas of blue and white.

Barefoot,

You pay attention to the change,

From the thick green blades of the neatly manicured lawn to the powdery white sand beneath your feet.

Nearer the surf,

The sand has the softest hint of salmon pink,

A dreamy,

Nurturing hue that awakens comforting feelings of softness.

There are days and places meant for thinking,

But this afternoon in Barbados is simply meant for feeling,

Flowing from one moment to the next,

Surrendering to the day as it unfolds.

People from neighboring villas and vibrantly-hued bungalows have the same idea as well,

Enjoying one last swim or search for shells.

A trio of school-aged kids snorkel along the reefs to the south,

Where they are often found racing into the sea as soon as their studies are done,

And they change from their uniforms into comfortable island attire.

You wear the kind of billowing clothes that invite the air to whisper against your skin.

Breathable and light,

They offer a sense of freedom and as the wind shifts,

Catching speed,

You extend your arms out and feel as if you could fly or windsurf across the placid turquoise water,

Your toes dipping down into its silky warmth whenever you wish to connect.

You walk into the delicate waves where the water is so clear it gives way to the peachy pink sand below,

Before shades of aquamarine and blue take over.

Tugging at your linen pants to hoist them higher,

You submerge your legs until the water laps just below your knees.

As the water recedes,

The breeze cools the droplets that remain on your sun-kissed skin.

You feel your pores open in its radiant light,

Shielding your eyes with your palm as you look at the twinkling expanse of blue.

The air changes,

Becoming cool in a refreshing way,

Alerting you that a storm is coming near.

The anticipation of its arrival evokes intrigue.

There are days when the sun can feel too perfect and too much.

There are moments when we all need the world around us to change,

To offer us time to hunker down and draw within.

In the modern world,

In particular,

Few forces exist with enough power to tell us to stop being so busy and slow down.

But nature is one of them.

The gentle waves become stronger,

Their lapping melody taking on a percussive crash onto the wet sand and coral.

A mother cries out to the school kids who have been trained to listen for her voice,

Even when their eyes are focused on the ocean floor.

Immersed in an underwater exploration,

Their heads pop out of the water.

As they blow out any water in their snorkeling gear and remove their goggles that have left indentations in their contented faces.

The winds and changing tide are the opening acts for the storm clouds that hurry in fast,

Transforming the sapphire waters in the distance into shades of dusty purple and gray.

Storms like this reveal the boringness in perfection.

They offer a welcome transition,

Impermanent and fierce.

The thought of watching the night sky light up with silver flashes as rain pelts against the windows of the villa causes goosebumps to tickle down your arms and legs.

How alive you feel on this day,

One soul of many,

To be fortunate enough to revel in the beauty of Barbados and see its ever-changing cast of colors and moods.

You take in a deep breath and can smell the rain on its way,

Transforming the soft redolence of tropical flora and salt water with a clean,

Hopeful smell.

Everyone has vacated the sea,

And you too exit the water and walk on the sand once more.

It gathers on your feet,

Fine and sparkly,

In the last rays of sunlight to pour through the palm fronds before the purple,

Black-bellied clouds fill the sky.

The first flashes of lightning appear along the horizon,

So subtle one may miss them,

If not looking for them.

A small rainbow appears to the right,

Where the rain is already falling.

Far out at sea,

Touched by the sun,

You make your way back to the villa that is painted in a happy shade of bubblegum pink,

Like so many of the historic homes and even the new bungalows and villas.

Color is an ally,

A pop of bliss on the wooden facades and shutters that dabble the countryside and villages of Barbados.

Just around the bend,

A series of bungalows represent the colors of an eight-pack of crayons.

Bold,

Vivid,

And never too much for the tropical palette.

Barbados has a soul to it,

An inexplicable ancestral energy that instills a sense of wanting to stay.

The island becomes an anchor,

And you feel it as it imparts a desire to always come to,

Or return to this heavenly oasis.

By the time the first,

Fat drops of rain arrive,

You have already made it to the outdoor shower,

Where you wash your calves and feet free of sand and salt,

And then splash your face with the lukewarm water.

The rain patters on the tin roof of the shower,

And when you step out,

A few raindrops land on your face.

Slipping between the canopy of palm fronds,

They feel icy on your lips and cheeks.

A flash of lightning reflects on the ocean,

And a second later,

Thunder rumbles.

You ascend the half-circle stairs that rise to the veranda,

Sitting in a porch swing for a few minutes to watch the storm evolve.

The palms sweep the air,

Catching the rain and then shaking it loose.

The rhythmic patter of the rain,

The swooshing of the palms,

And the distant sound of the surf and thunder come together to form a dreamy soundtrack.

Wind chimes add their dulcet tones,

Made by local artisans.

Your collection of chimes features unique shells and sea glass in shades of emerald,

Light blue,

And cobalt.

You swing back and forth as the rain bounces off the railing of the veranda,

Leaving a thin layer of cool mist on your skin.

At any point,

You may slink inside and unwind,

Giving in to the sleepy feeling that comes in the late afternoon.

Naps are welcome,

Even celebrated on days like today,

As the soft spray of the bouncing rain becomes colder and heavier.

You rise from the chair,

And the chain that holds it squeaks softly.

You walk across the creaking and groaning boards of the veranda and enter the open double doors into the main room,

Closing them behind you.

Ceiling fans spin vertically,

Circulating the air and its sudden coolness.

The room is decorated in shades of sand and white,

With pops of your favorite colors appearing in accents and paintings,

Throw blankets,

Blankets,

And hand-woven rugs.

Artwork bought in craft markets outside of Bridgetown.

Celebrate the island in unique ways.

Flashes of lightning reflect on the sea-inspired floor tiles that are cool beneath your bare feet.

Storm clouds block the sun,

Darkening the island and preventing any chance of taking in the typical colorful sunset.

You approach an antique credenza and remove a match from a matchbox.

You strike it and a flame erupts,

Flickering in the circulating air as you protect it,

Lighting six ivory candles in a brass candelabra.

Moving swiftly as the match burns down,

You light each wick and the smells of sulfur and melting wax fill the air.

Thunder rumbles once more,

Softly echoing through the villa.

Wind chimes and the ocean sing out quietly in the distance.

The lights flicker and soon go out,

And your intuitive impulse to light the candles is validated.

Each raindrop is like an insistent call,

Lulling you deeper into a state of peace and sleepiness.

You yawn as you balance the candelabra in your hand and allow it to guide you down the long hallway where chiffon curtains dance around the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Shadows grow long on the floor and reflect on the glass,

Elongating the shape of your body cast in the flickering orange-gold light.

Upon entering the room,

You look outside beyond the small balcony to witness the choppy seas.

The world outside has transformed into something utterly unrecognizable.

From an hour ago,

The blues have become deep shades of gray.

Setting the candelabra on a desk by a bay window,

You stand in the frame of French doors and lean your head against the glass pane.

As rain streams down the window,

The world magically blurs through a lens of raindrops,

And you stand between the vibrant silver flashes of lightning outside and the enchanting warm glow of the flickering candles behind you.

The bedroom suite has an air of sophistication blended with the rustic charm of the ivory wooden beams of the cathedral ceiling.

A mix of old and new,

The high ceilings provide ample space for the towering posts of a canopy bed dripping in flowing fabric.

The bedroom suite offers a reflection of the island's vibrant energy,

Featuring elements inspired by the rich history and artistic culture of Barbados.

Bookshelves overflow with dog-eared novels,

And the walls host art replications that echo the creative spirit that has drawn artists and writers to this beachside community for generations.

Palm frond sway outside the many windows of the room,

Brushing against the glass with a reminder of the constant motion on the island from the tides to the ocean breezes.

Before falling asleep,

You sit at the desk taking a moment to pour your thoughts into a journal,

A journal,

A task you've been promising yourself to do for some time.

The stormy night provides the ideal ambiance for self-reflection.

You pick up the pen and begin to write,

Feeling a part of yourself.

Pour out onto the page with each letter and handwriting unique to you and you alone.

You imagine the letters written throughout time from this very desk,

Long before electronic communication,

When handwritten letters were ubiquitous.

You find the more you describe,

Landing your thoughts and gratitude on the page,

The more sleepy you become.

The rain comes down harder as the wind whips around the villa.

You feel like you are in the eye of the storm,

Calm and contained in its protection as the uncontrollable forces of nature play on into the night.

The allure of falling asleep early takes hold as you savor this reprieve from routine,

Letting go of everything and immersing yourself in the comforting hunker of your sanctuary.

You feel inspired to retire much earlier than you would on those late sunset nights.

There is a rhythm to island life that has potent powers,

Even influencing energy levels.

And the way you go about the day,

You appreciate its guidance,

Especially now as it leads you to sleep.

One by one,

You blow out the candles,

The air whistling out your pursed lips like a soft echo of the stormy winds.

Changing into lightweight bedclothes,

You peel back the bedspread and cotton sheets hit with the faint aroma of jasmine from the sun-dried linens.

You welcome their soft,

Cool touch against your skin as you sink deeper into the plush mattress.

In a cocoon of sheets,

The scent of fresh linens joins the soothing aroma of clean rain.

Amidst the storm's crescendo,

You feel a profound connection to the generations of inhabitants who surrendered to the whims of nature,

Finding shelter from the storms.

The wind,

Carrying the echoes of stories and resilience with its whispering howls,

Slips through the cracks beneath the doors,

Subtly circulating the air.

The island's magical energy permeates the room,

Further tranquilizing every tired cell in your being as the soporific rain and rolling thunder usher you to sleep.

Currents of sleepiness come in slowly at first until you give in completely,

Drifting into the depths of sleep,

Consoled by the spirit of Barbados,

The Villa Haven,

And the unwavering belief that the sun will shine come morning.

Finding peace,

Peace,

Finding comfort,

Finding bliss,

Finding sleep.

It's time to dream away.

Reviews

I love storms! Thank you kindly for another wonderful bedtime story!
I never been to Barbados but your description made it sound like heaven on earth! Of course I had to listen to it in the morning as I fell asleep so quickly!
🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

Love! So descriptive, I felt like I was there. Thank you Michelle