The Courage Potion: Witches Cottage Bedtime Story

Return to the witches' cottage in an enchanted forest with "The Courage Potion," a captivating bedtime story where loving witches guide you through a ritual of besom sweeping, dispelling fears to envision a brave future. In the safe and cozy cottage, you feel empowered to dream as you encounter deep healing with a touch of magic. Nestled in the safety of a moonlit alcove, you fall into a deep, restorative sleep. It's time to dream away.

Transcript

Fall asleep in the ethereal realm of the Witch's Cottage with this cozy bedtime story for grown-ups.

You are listening to The Courage Potion.

In tonight's sleepy tale,

Experience the Witch's timeless haven,

Hidden deep within an ancient enchanted forest.

The loving witches always anticipate your arrival,

Ready to soothe your stress in their natural surroundings and mystical dwelling.

A cleansing ritual with bismuths awaits,

Sweeping away the fears of yesteryears to envision a dreamy future where you feel resilient and brave.

Get comfy as you embark on a transcendent journey,

Offering wisdom and healing as you sip from the elixir of courage.

It's time to dream away.

Welcome to Michelle's Sanctuary.

I am Michelle and for the purpose of this spellbinding odyssey,

You may think of my voice as that of a gentle sleep fairy and guide.

But the sound waves of my voice encourage a deep sense of peace.

You may change any of the details in this story,

As this is your creative landscape that is free of rules.

Let your imagination take you far away from the mundanities of your waking life.

Customize the magic to your beliefs,

Opening your heart to a deep desire for repose and bliss.

Let every moment evoke enchanting sensations.

Every thought can transform the world around you.

Trust yourself infinitely,

Bending the boundaries of reality that now take on the essence of water.

Every moment becomes fluid and dreamlike,

Whimsical and soft.

Your breath is as important as your thoughts.

Celebrate each conscious breath.

As a meditation,

You may pretend each molecule of fresh oxygen regulates your nervous system,

Helping you find solace in the present.

Settle into the sanctuary of your body and mind.

Your rhythmic breathing becomes a soothing cadence that permeates every cell,

Delivering the wonderful news that your bedtime holiday begins now.

Surrender to the languid waves of peace and energetic vibrations of comfort.

With intention,

Release today's burdens and let go.

You deserve to feel good and relaxed.

A mysterious rustle takes over your room,

Inspiring curiosity and awakening intrigue as you welcome it.

You feel a crisp breeze that inspires you to hunker down beneath your covers.

Every part of your body feels grounded in the support of your bed,

Like the ancient roots of a tree reaching deep into the earth.

Let out a sigh,

Imagining your breath condensing to create a cloud that may deliver you to your dreams.

This cloud may transport you anywhere in time and space.

Exhale slowly through your nose,

Taken by the rich botanical scents of the enchanted forest,

Misty,

Cool,

And transformative.

You feel at one with the energy of the tranquil woods,

Slipping away from the modern world and all its commotion and noise.

Open your mouth and let out a yawn,

Allowing sleepiness to seep into every fiber of your being.

That yawn merges with a sigh,

Making you lighter as you cast your burdens into the night.

Repeat this healing process twice more at your own pace.

Each cycle brings an inhalation,

A yawn,

And a sigh.

Visualize each oxygen molecule transforming into sparkling orbs,

Traversing through your cells,

Offering life,

Vitality,

And a moment to stand down.

With each breath become more relaxed,

More attuned to the magic within.

Feel the rippling effect of this practice,

From the crown of your head to the soles of your feet.

As you succumb to serenity,

Let your breath resume its natural rhythm.

More at peace than you have been all day,

It's time for the story to begin.

Courage doesn't always roar.

Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says,

I'll try again tomorrow.

But on the nights when a silent urging beckons you to go beyond your dreamscape,

Traveling through time and space to the enchanted forest and witch's cottage,

The chance to try again and again presents itself,

Yet somehow in the loving presence of the witches,

Trying anything doesn't feel like much of a task.

Perhaps that's because they make you feel so safe,

And they make every endeavor playful and inspiring.

Great leaps and bounds of courage are easy to harvest when your mind and body feel calm and grounded,

And fun becomes paramount.

On this visit,

You feel as light as the veil of mist that weaves through the white birch trees where the fairies dance and light up the night.

You feel the smallest particles held together by an energetic force,

Reminding you of how connected you are to the world around you.

Dressed in a tailored coat and warm layers,

Your boots land on the mottled earth and the tapestry of crunchy and soggy leaves,

Every coppery and golden hue nuanced and slightly different.

The fox waits atop a moss-covered boulder,

His neck regally arched toward the brilliant moon.

Not quite full,

But very close to earth,

The moon showers the darkest shadows of the forest with prismatic beams of silver light.

Your journeys before,

And those yet to come,

Need not be marked by a particular goal.

You are just as welcome at the witch's cottage when you need to escape boredom or restlessness as when you seek their wisdom,

But this time,

You yearn for a tonic to deal with the modern world and all its uncertainties.

The lurking surprises and constant change have left you needing to feel safe,

And the witches have survived and prevailed throughout history to understand and offer insights.

The fox lowers his chin to meet your gaze,

And your eyes connect.

His assured stare prompts contemplation.

You consider how he's never once revealed a hint of fear,

Certainly as all beings in any forest,

Even an enchanted one.

He understands fear,

It's an instinct.

Fear prompts action,

And that action is often necessary to survive.

But sometimes that fear leaves a residue,

A layer of trauma that taints perceptions and makes one question each moment,

Even the safe ones.

That sound in the forest,

Listening as the night creatures serenade the lady in the moon,

You feel safer than you ever have.

A globe of protective light,

An extension of the witch's maternal aura,

Surrounds you.

And always visible to you,

You sense it like when you imagine the most comforting hug from someone who always has your back.

But there are times on this walk to the witch's cottage that you can see this energetic globe swirling around you.

Sometimes it appears like the quick dart of a lightning bug,

Or a shimmering cloud of fairy dust,

Illuminated by the moon in your peripheral vision.

It glows brighter the closer you get to the witch's cottage.

The fox accompanies you,

And a conversation begins,

A telepathic exchange,

Not limited to your fox friend.

You are so in tune with the energy of the enchanted forest,

That you can ask a tree how it feels,

And receive an answer.

It would be easy to mock this,

For telecommunications in the modern world have muted your intuitive ear,

So that only now and then do the unspoken words become clear in your mind.

You think to yourself,

Why can't it always be this easy?

And the fox replies,

But it can.

You consider this for a moment envisioning the days to come with the ease they do here,

To better manage your fear,

Knowing that no matter what,

You will be okay.

You question how the fox is seemingly so fearless in all your encounters.

The fox reminds you,

No creature is fearless.

They learn to be brave by trusting instincts.

His bravery developed in a fun way,

As his mother and littermates taught him through play,

He felt a sense of safety that made it possible to explore and test his own powers.

As he conveys these ideas,

You see them play out before you on the incoming fog that acts like a cinema screen.

Imagery reveals the fox as a cub,

Tumbling down the hill ahead of his littermates that all come to a stop.

He falls into the babbling brook that leads to the witch's cottage.

You watch as his young,

Beady eyes have a flash of panic until he calms himself and his legs involuntarily begin to swim and guide him back to the shore.

And as you watch the fox's memory play out in the fog.

You consider the innate wisdom within your DNA that serves your instincts,

As magically as a witch's spell.

The fox is forever a welcome companion on walks in the woods,

But you are more grateful than ever before to have this encounter now.

Your bond has grown each time,

Yet it's not surprising that the fox dashes into the darkness of the forest once you arrive at the witch's cottage.

He knows you are always in the most loving and safest hands when you are in their presence.

The gardens before the cottage,

Once vibrant with life,

Are now a mosaic of fallen leaves that carry the wet,

Earthy scent of decay and renewal.

The knotty fence made of wood that twists like licorice sticks spent the summer months dripping in wisteria.

Now it wears crowns of amber and gold as the foliage surrenders to the passage of time and settles in its nooks and joints.

The gate door softly squeals as you open it,

Feeling the weathered wood with your fingertips.

You walk the path to the porch and ascend the familiar stairs.

Witchcreek beneath your feet sings a welcome melody,

One the witches ignore since they anticipate your arrival every time.

Whimsical twists of green vines cascade down the stone and juniper wood facade with a fullness you don't recall from your last visit.

You pause before the front door and inhale the fragrant night air,

Enhanced with the botanical smells of the witch's brew.

Contentment washes over you as your lips upturn in an effortless smile.

Every muscle in your face relaxes,

And your heart feels a revealing lightness that makes you aware of how much you have been carrying.

It feels like returning to the first home you've ever known,

A haven where the heartbeat of the forest and the laughter of witches inspire glee.

Besoms in the hands of the unseen enchantresses whisper across the wooden floors in a rhythmic dance.

On the other side of the heavy door,

With a cast-iron knocker,

The sound massages your ears and causes a wave of delightful goosebumps on your skin.

It joins the whistling winds of autumn as mahogany and chestnut leaves spin around the cottage like music box ballerinas rising toward the sky.

As your hand grasps the cool,

Time-worn knocker,

A sparkling,

Dark blue plume slips under the door crack and out of the windows into the night,

A manifestation of the witch's energy being released into the vastness beyond.

You turn around to watch the clouds rise above the clearing and the stream,

Heading toward the starry,

Velvet canvas of night.

The lady in the moon beckons them to the infinite celestial expanse with a come-hither motion,

A keeper of the light that shines through the darkest hours.

She knows best how to cast away the shadows,

Sparkling like sapphires.

The clouds unveil glimpses of what the witches release into the night,

Old burdens,

Lingering doubts,

And energies that no longer serve them.

It's a dance of liberation,

A vivid display of letting go,

And truly,

You would expect nothing less from the witches.

You can always anticipate theatrical antics whenever the witches are involved.

The plumes become wisps,

Smaller and smaller as they slip away into the sky.

Joyous incantations travel out the windows,

Echoing through the woods.

You grab the knocker and confidently tap it against the door,

Hearing peals of glee erupt within.

The youngest of the sisters,

Korra,

Opens the door and greets you with boundless energy.

Her exuberant hops match the laughter of the witches within,

Intoxicated by the bliss of clearing out the old.

Her strong arms wrap around you in a nurturing hug.

The others look your way and welcome you with a smile.

The witches,

Just like the best of healers,

Know that the only way to help others is to work on their shadow selves.

You instantly feel the lightness of the energy in the room as the witches engage in one last pass over the floor with her sacred brooms.

Karla,

The eldest and most sensible of the witches,

Guides her bism with purpose,

Holding the top of the broom handle tightly against her chest,

Cloaked in an emerald embroidered robe.

With each step,

She releases the weight of perpetual responsibility,

The need to cater to everyone,

To be the archetypal pillar of strength.

The bism becomes an extension of her resolve,

To shed this heavy load,

Creating space for a lighter,

Unburdened existence.

She realized that not only has her perfectionism and overbearingness deprived her of joy,

It has also held her sisters and loved ones back from solving problems on their own.

With one last sweep,

She releases her attachment to this pattern,

And you watch the blue cloud sail across the floor and out the open door.

Ava,

In her purple robe,

Swirls her bism with renewed vigor.

Sparks fly from the bristles and condense in a cloud,

Revealing her quest to break free from settled patterns.

She clears away the comfort zone that has confined her,

Limiting her spells and holding her back from true mastery of her domain.

The bism cleanses the stagnation that hinders her exploration of the vast realms beyond the familiar.

Korra returns to her broom,

Tidying up her favorite corner in the cottage by a bow window looking onto the clearing,

Where the fairies engage in their nightly moon dance.

The bism swishes across the floor,

In her effort to cleanse the space of her impatience and restlessness.

As the youngest of the witches,

Korra has often felt the unspoken pressure to keep pace with her elder sisters.

The tales and successes of their magical exploits and the wisdom they've gathered over the centuries overwhelmed her growing skills.

In her haste to catch up,

She never allowed herself the grace and time to learn at her own pace to experience the enchanting journey that was uniquely hers.

With each sweep of her bism,

Korra sheds the impatience born from the perception that being the youngest meant constantly striving to prove herself.

The broom becomes a tool of self-compassion,

Allowing her to release the need for instant mastery and embrace the gradual unfolding of her magical potential.

In the midst of her cleansing ritual,

Blue sparkling clouds materialize,

Swirling around Korra like a whimsical aura,

Where the ethereal mist vivid scenes unfold,

Depicting Korra as a young witch,

Grappling with impatience until this very moment.

The clouds reveal her struggles,

The moments of frustration,

And the determination that carried her through.

The clouds drift outside,

Joining the last plumes from the sisters that take to the sky.

In this dance of bisms and laughter,

The witches reclaim their essence.

The cottage,

Once adorned with the weight of old energies,

Transforms into a sanctuary of renewed light and possibility.

The front door remains open as the night air cleanses the space.

Dozens of candles flicker in candelabras scattered about the room as a gyrating pattern of golden light and shadows pours onto the cleansed floor.

A cauldron hangs just above the fire in the hearth,

And the breeze carries its steam up the shaft to the chimney.

As the brooms come to stillness,

The cottage resonates with a newfound tranquility,

And your attention turns to the center of the room,

Where a bism waits for you.

It is adorned with a velvet ribbon in your favorite color,

From which a crystal hangs.

The broom levitates above the floor,

Awaiting your retrieval.

Cora removes her coat and exchanges it for a lush robe.

Ava helps you cinch it around your waist.

Carla gazes at you encouragingly as you walk to the heart of the room,

And your hands grip the broom handle as you join in the cleansing waltz.

The crisp breeze carries away the remnants of old stories,

Making room for the untold wonders that await in the enchanting night.

Feeling so free,

You glide about the cottage,

Relieving yourself of past traumas and making peace with the ways that your body has adapted.

Love and self-acceptance course through your veins,

Empowering you to sweep away the clouds of doubt and any unkind thoughts you may have had about yourself or your situation.

You watch as the sparkling plumes form,

Reflecting the moonlight that pours through the windows and open door like specks of stardust.

You inhale deeply,

And with one final sweep,

You release everything into the night.

The witches cheer you on,

And as you lower the visum,

The beloved cat that you named seasons ago sits at your feet,

Purring and looking at you with its sweet saucer eyes.

Carla smiles,

Wonderful job my dear.

She explains that we must accept that these feelings will still return to us,

For the body keeps score of all of our traumas and challenges,

As it does just what it was programmed to do.

But we always have the free will to assess the fears that get in our way,

That cloud our judgment and render us frozen and uncomfortable.

We may sweep them away and make space for healing.

She asks you and her sisters if they feel ready to heal.

You are awash with the euphoric bliss that comes from knowing that there is always something one may do,

Even when everything feels out of control.

As your eyes gravitate toward the dancing flames in the hearth,

You imagine a life where your primary objective is to soothe yourself,

No matter what happens around you.

Always respecting and acknowledging your feelings while giving yourself a cleansing space as beguiling and encouraging as the Witch's Cottage.

Carla approaches the cauldron as lavender steam rises,

Each shimmering ingredient comes together to create an alchemy of courage.

With a practiced hand,

Carla controls the steam's movement and stirs the elixir with a graceful dance of intention and reverence.

The flames in the fireplace flicker in response,

Casting shadows on the walls that flutter like ethereal spirits.

As she stirs the concoction in the cauldron,

Carla shares her wisdom about courage.

She speaks of the facade of bravery she wears,

The face that others see,

A face that has weathered countless storms with resilience.

This is the Carla you know well and love with vulnerability.

Carla confesses that beneath the exterior of unwavering courage,

She grapples with fears that,

Like shadows,

Occasionally creep into her heart.

She unveils the human side of a Witch who has mastered the potion of courage,

Laying bare the truth that even the bravest souls are not immune to moments of doubt.

Her candor inspires you,

Shedding away the shame from believing that some souls are just better at strife and born fearless.

What a relief to see the Witches brimming with empathy for themselves and for you,

For all living beings.

In this intimate moment,

The Witches become not merely guardians of ancient wisdom,

But also companions on a shared journey of vulnerability and strength.

Carla continues to stir the potion,

Each revolution a symbol of resilience and acceptance.

The potion,

Now infused with the essence of courage,

Radiates a luminous glow that reflects the collective bravery of those gathered in the cottage.

You inhale the fragrant steam with a deep inhalation,

And visions begin to float in your mind like waking dreams.

You see yourself becoming brave,

Advocating for the life you most desire.

And each time you are brave,

It will become easier the next.

All the Witches know this as well.

They also know,

And share with you,

That when it comes to courage,

No potion will ever be as powerful or remarkable as a mind that truly believes that change is possible and takes actions that support it.

You and the Witches sit in a circle on the hand-loomed rug before the fire.

The colorful pattern softens the creaks of the wooden floorboards below as you settle into the silence,

Where only the bubbling sounds of the courage potion are heard.

The hypnotic sound makes the moment otherworldly,

And soon,

Without even knowing how,

You are in the cozy alcove of the Witches' cottage,

Settled into bed.

The cat curls against you,

Purring and keeping you warm.

You peer out the windows with tired eyes,

Squinting to see the fox in the clearing,

Witness to all that you released into the night.

He meets you with a knowing gaze,

And you feel his concern,

Compassion,

And love.

He sends a single message,

Before taking off into the forest.

He says,

Trust yourself,

And in a state of trust,

Knowing that deep healing comes easier with a night of great sleep,

You waft toward the realms of slumber.

The potion of courage empowers you to dream,

And to dream big.

Your heart is alight,

Your body is relaxed,

And your mind is clear.

You inhale the sweet,

Comforting smells of antique wood and lavender,

Of fresh linens and the autumn night,

And as you exhale,

You drift across the bridge to your sleeping life,

Finding enchantment,

Finding peace,

Finding courage,

Finding sleep.

It's time to dream away.

Reviews

Thank you for another wonderful story in the enchanted forest at the witches cottage.

Another wonderful sleep story from Michelle’s Sanctuary 💜✨

Excellent, thank you! Although I drifted off rather quickly. 🤗

Michelle, I 💕 this story of magic and witches! Very interesting, enchanting and creative! I fell asleep quickly, and then listened to it again in the morning. You are my favourite bedtime story author!!!! I look forward to listening to you each night! Thank you 🙏 kindly for all these wonderful stories! I also appreciate the breathing exercises in the beginning to be prepared and relaxed for sleep. 🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

Thank you, Michell🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻I love the Witches series. Throughout the night, I fell back to sleep very quickly, in the early morning hours, I was able to hear most of the story…🙏🏻🌟✨🌟💫🌟🙏🏻

The Witch”s Cabin are mt absolutely favorite stories!