Slip into an enchanting forest with tonight's sleep story.
You're listening to The Nightmaker's Market,
A cozy bedtime story for grown-ups that brings us to a secret market where artisans gather every fortnight after dusk to sell their healing treasures.
Enter the sacred forest of twisted trees where branches and trunks twist like licorice sticks towards a starry sky.
Enjoy summer's final kiss just before the leaves begin to change as a refreshing chill lingers in the air.
The moon rises over hobbit homes and a treehouse village as you retreat to a rustic cabin with your night market wares and fall asleep.
It's time to dream away.
Welcome to Michelle's Sanctuary.
I am Michelle,
Your encouraging guide who you may think of as a dear longtime friend.
Magical stories like this transport us through time,
Offering glimpses of cherished places as they evolve and transform across history and we get to enjoy the full picture from the safety of our beds.
So lie back and relax.
My aim is to support you in this time and space of peace and rest as you enjoy the sanctuary of your room and mind.
You deserve to feel amazing each night as you approach sleep as a restorative holiday.
The creative canvas of your imagination may be inspired by this story,
Helping you to sail away on the most comforting dreams to come.
Customize any part of the story and remember it's yours to craft and feel free to fall asleep at any time.
Let's indulge in a few conscious breaths to set the tone for this new chapter of the night.
Imagine cool night air infused with the essence of cedar,
Pine,
And the sweet decay of leaves as it circulates through your room.
Sigh away your thoughts and stress in a big generous exhale.
This breath is a gift to yourself,
Honoring your commitment to feeling good right now.
Inhale slowly through your nose,
Imagining you can see the microscopic molecules of oxygen sparkling with life and ready to infuse you with peace and vitality.
At the top of this breath,
You may yawn and sigh audibly if you like.
Whatever you need to do to feel a sense of release,
Go ahead and do it.
Now enjoy this pattern of deep breathing with two more rounds,
Inhaling more soothing night air each time,
Taking up a bit more space.
Find yourself becoming sleepier and more relaxed,
Trusting that you are on the best path to comfort and rest.
As you inhale,
The botanicals in the air serve as an invitation,
Heightening your curiosity about the forest of twisted trees.
With each exhale,
Your breath has the ease of a night wind rustling the whispering pines and deciduous branches as it slithers through the twisted trees.
Your breath has the power to move things.
Whenever you feel ready,
Transition your breath back into an easy,
Steady rhythm.
Sense your mind opening to the possibilities about to unfold as the story begins.
There was a time when the forest of twisted trees was a place solely for misfits.
Protected by Jacob Green,
A man teased for being double the height and size of his peers.
As soon as he could escape the ridicule of his medieval village,
He found peace in the forest of twisted trees,
Where he expected to be a recluse for the rest of his days.
But as he connected with nature and began to experience life joyously through his own perspective,
Rather than the judgment of cruel villagers,
His mission became to create a haven in the forest for all the self-identifying misfits of the world.
At first,
Jacob welcomed guests to the intricate tree houses and spheres he built high above the forest floor,
Offering a bird's-eye view of the unique tawny gray trunks that rose from the damp earth like pretzel twists.
He was a visionary,
Transforming a ridiculously sized shoe meant to be a cruel joke into a welcoming cottage where a mother left on her own could tend to her family of nine.
Jacob's spirit lingers in the forest of twisted trees,
His kindness woven in every hidden cozy dwelling atop the trees or beneath the forest floor.
Long after he has left the mortal world,
The beloved woodlands remain as a refuge for all who seek to be true and authentic to their life's destiny.
As technology took hold and the world seemed to speed up,
Many like-minded souls decided they were happier living simpler lives,
Away from the noise and chaos of the 21st century advances.
The first Nightmakers Market was born as a tribute to Jacob's legacy,
A gathering of artisans and creators who learned firsthand from the gentle giant that the secret to a happy life wasn't crafting talents to please others.
It was finding the people who will celebrate the talents you have and watch them grow.
And those people always managed to find their way to the forest of twisted trees.
They maintained the labyrinth he built in the deep woods centuries ago,
Featuring hobbit homes connected by intricate tunnels and tree houses high above the canopy of leaves and needles,
Connected by rope bridges as well as rustic cottages and cabins speckled throughout the healing forest along the stream.
Just past twilight,
Ear buttery boots crunch on the leaves and rusty orange pine needles that lead into the mystical forest.
Hovering just around the cusp of autumn,
The still air carries the remaining warmth of summer as the night wind brings a crispness,
Carrying a faint hint of wood smoke and a sweet decay of leaves that have fallen prematurely.
In early moonrise,
Emerging while the sky still held the soft pastel hues of pink,
Gold,
And blue from the fading sunset,
Now finds the luminous lunar globe near the center of the sky.
Magic hums all around you,
An electric energy that sets your heart alight with wonder as fireflies glimmer and then dim above a pine cone trail.
Dew-dropped moss blankets the forest floor beneath you in wide irregular patches of emerald chartreuse and kelly green.
Each dewy droplet glitters like tiny diamonds under the full light of the waxing gibbous moon.
Cedar and white pine trees give way to the gnarled branches of the twisted trees that form a lacework canopy against the starlit indigo blue sky.
The boundary line between familiar evergreens and deciduous trees and the twisted tree forest is clear on the darkest of nights and an energetic shift occurs the moment you pass it.
The air feels lighter,
The world feels more spacious,
More abundant with vitality as all tension seems to evaporate on the other side.
You follow a narrow path where spotted neon orange newts and lime green tree frogs glisten in the moonlight as the gentle murmur of a sparkling stream adds to their symphony of chirps and croaks.
The distant hoot of an owl across the babbling blue-green water of a winding stream joins in.
A cluster of lavender gray twisted trees part to reveal a clearing bathed in opal moonlight dominated by an ancient towering tree dripping with crystals from hundreds of its umbrella-like branches.
Rose quartz,
Moonstone,
Ruby,
Tanzanite,
And aquamarine shimmer in the darkness hung long ago by Jacob and restrung throughout time to create a place to find stillness and a soulful connection to the forest and more importantly to yourself.
As you walk beneath the canopy of crystals,
They chime softly in the breeze,
Clinking against the branches and rustling leaves,
Adding percussive notes to the night sounds in the woods.
As you continue,
You become aware of the first signs of the nightmakers market.
Faintly concealed by the sounds of the forest,
You tune into the distant peals of laughter mingling with a gentle strumming of stringed instruments and a haunting melodic ballad sung by a crystal-clear feminine voice.
You see the faint amber glow in the distance,
Warming the forest with a golden aura that creates an air of mystery and intrigue.
You follow the sights and sounds,
Staying near the edge of the meandering stream until you stumble upon a hand-painted banner draped above the pathway.
Midnight blue fabric shimmers beneath the moon,
Adorned with the words,
The nightmakers market,
In glittering gold and silver cursive,
Swirling elegantly across the surface.
Hundreds of tiny silver stars and a crescent moon dance along the thick canvas with every whisper of the wind.
Wood stalls and tables made from shiny tree stumps line the clearing.
A myriad of jewel-toned chiffon scarves adorn the wooden posts of the stalls,
Taking elegant flight on the breeze,
Illuminated by fairy lights wrapped around the structures.
Each stall features a treasure trove of magical wares crafted by skilled artisans,
Their passion infusing the air with an enchanting energy as people barter and shop into the night.
You are met by a young girl in a renaissance-inspired dress who offers a corsage she tightens around your wrist with soft brown twine.
It contains sprigs of baby breath,
Dried rosemary,
Chamomile,
And lavender that offer a gentle soothing perfume as you enter the market.
Moonlight reflects on a small copper tag attached to the corsage that reveals your name etched in a calligraphy style.
This small detail feeds a deep sense of being welcome and truly belonging.
You come to one of the first stalls that features dozens of unique candles made by Maya,
A woman with gorgeous wild curls that cascade around a burgundy satin ribbon tied around the crown of her head.
Her warm brown eyes meet yours.
She welcomes you and introduces herself.
Maya is a candle maker who lives in a cave home beyond the stream near the edge of the twisted trees.
Her candles are unlike any you've ever seen.
Tall and as wide as the trunks of tree saplings,
Their jewel-toned wax twists and twirls into patterns that are hypnotic,
Resembling ribbon candy.
Maya proudly describes how her designs are inspired by the forest and made from freshly foraged ingredients.
The vibrant colors of her candles come from natural dyes made from the bountiful elderberries,
Wildflowers,
And abandoned bark of ancient trees throughout the woods.
The scent of sandalwood and lavender wafts from her stall and Maya tells you that each candle is imbued with intention,
Crafted to bring clarity and peace to the lucky soul who one day burns it.
I come from a long line of artisans,
She says with a knowing glint in her eyes.
Perhaps you've heard the tale of the woman who lived in a shoe.
She was my distant relative.
You smile,
Captivated by her presence and her craft,
And choose a candle swirled with deep emerald,
Purple,
And sapphire hues.
The label reads,
Wander No More,
And when you lift it to your nose,
The scent of pine,
Cedar,
And sea salt transports you to a forest by the ocean.
But there is something else you can't quite identify that simply smells like home.
Maya explains how she made this candle to represent how we may all have nomadic yearnings at times,
But even a wanderer at night has a desire to feel at home.
In this moment,
The candle resonates with you profoundly,
Making you feel at once a visitor and yet deeply at home in the enchanting forest of twisted trees.
Maya carefully wraps the candle in handmade paper made with dried flowers and herbs before placing it into a woven bag for you to carry as you shop.
You thank her sincerely and move on.
Across the way,
The smell of freshly baked bread draws you to another stall.
A young man,
No older than 19,
Stands proudly behind a table laden with smoky jams and mason jars and loaves of bread.
His name is Cordon,
And his story,
Like many of the others here,
Is one of survival and resilience.
You watch his masterful hands as he pulls apart a loaf of what he calls midnight bread,
A special creation twisted like challah with bands of chocolate and raspberry dough spiraling through its center in mesmerizing swirls.
He offers you a small rope-shaped piece,
The bread kept warm before being served.
The rich dark scent of cocoa mingles with the tart sweetness of raspberries supported by the fluffy,
Pillowy bread.
It melts on your tongue,
The perfect balance of butteriness,
Chocolate and raspberry.
He then offers a warm pretzel nib with a smoky jam that he explains is made with berries he picks under the full moon.
He smokes the berries atop foraged wood chips before cooking them into jam.
For the past year,
Cordon has lived in a hobbit home,
Realizing early on that the intensity of modern life was too much.
The moment he came to the forest of twisted trees,
He was able to thrive and live in peace.
He points toward a cluster of cozy round doors nestled into a mullet hillside beyond the market.
The ovens within are perfect for a baker.
He mentions how long ago most ovens were beneath the earth.
He is honored to be part of this tradition.
You select a loaf of midnight bread to enjoy for breakfast in the morning,
And Cordon wraps it neatly for you to place it within your woven bag.
You say goodnight and wander to another stall,
Drawn toward the sound of gentle wind chimes.
A booth displays whispering wind chimes comprised of delicate metals,
Gemstones,
Vibrant feathers,
And enchanting pieces of hollowed-out wooden tubes that produce dulcet tones with the slightest breeze.
Folklore has it that these chimes deliver the sense of hope that once inspired Jacob when he settled in his first tree atop the whispering branches in a rustic home.
Liliana,
The maker of these shimmering chimes,
Says their music helps soften the night,
Stirring familiar yet long-forgotten dreams.
Her sleek white blonde hair flows straight down her back,
Capturing the moonlight as her aquamarine eyes twinkle.
Beneath the hanging chimes,
You peruse shelves of dreamcatcher jars that flicker with a soft glow of fireflies in a vast array of colored and golden tiny fairy lights.
You study the different color combinations and decide on one of them as Liliana explains that each night before bed,
You may sit with the lights by your side as you reflect on the day.
The twinkling glow will help clear the night of bad dreams,
Shining light on the good dreams you wish to manifest.
You thank her for the jar and continue onward to another booth where an old artist named Leon sits behind an easel.
His wrinkled hands move with agility.
The fast,
Concentrated brushstrokes capture a little girl and her tiny dog that pose before him.
He captures not just their likeness,
But their essence,
But their essence,
Painting them against the backdrop of the ancient tree and its glittering crystals.
His painting makes every luminous hue and shape become ethereal and even more beautiful as he draws out the magic within.
As the night deepens,
Rich blues and purples wash over the market while the moonlight casts long shadows from the twisted trees,
Stretching their backlit forms across the clearing.
A bonfire crackles near a ginormous tree stump that serves as a stage where a bewitching woman in flowing layers sings with the voice of an old soul.
Sings with the voice of an old soul,
Low and rich in vibrato,
Yet full of empathy.
The bonfire serves as her spotlight as her guitarist plucks nimbly at his guitar strings,
Humbly hiding in the shadows,
Occasionally harmonizing along in the chorus to drive the female songwriter's message home.
People roast marshmallows,
Assembling s'mores with dark chocolate and sliced slabs of fresh gingerbread.
Burnt sugar,
Melting chocolate,
And ginger spice fill the air,
Carried on the breeze with the smell of charred wood.
Patches of stars break through the canopy of twisted trees as the moon centers above,
Pouring light onto the celebration as the clouds keep away.
Some attendees dance by themselves,
Happily swaying through the night in whatever feels good and comes naturally to them.
One wouldn't dare mock the joy someone finds in music in this forest.
For these healed,
Content souls have no desire to be anything but true to themselves.
No one would even consider stealing someone else's joy for the sake of possibly feeling superior.
You stifle a yawn as the night gets cooler and set out to visit one last stall.
It features lush fabrics that shimmer in the orange gold glow of the bonfire and silvery light of the moon.
Healing patchwork quilts hang neatly in rows,
Draped over shiny knotted wooden rods.
The celestial designs are stitched with threads of gold and silver,
As fine as angel hair.
The patches are made of velvet and silky fabrics,
Some featuring earth tones,
While others display rich purples,
Reds,
Greens,
Golds,
And blues.
Each quilt is embroidered with personalized messages,
Meant to bring comfort when bundled within.
You run your fingertips across a quilt adorned with constellations,
The stars traced in golden threads.
Cornelia,
The mastermind behind these quilts,
Is a distant relative of Jacob's.
A thick silver braid wraps around her head in a crown,
And she stands elegantly before you.
She knows the forest of twisted trees better than anyone here tonight.
Cornelia explains how each quilt is stitched with dreams and intentions.
She asks if you've ever wondered about what the person creating the items you love most was thinking when they came to be.
She promises each quilt in her stall is true to the message inscribed.
Perhaps one of them is meant for you,
She says softly.
Once more,
You are drawn to the quilt adorned with constellations that mirror the night sky.
A message along the silky edge reads,
Never forget,
You are your north star.
A feeling of warmth fills your heart.
A sense of peace washes over you.
As you understand that you have always intuitively known this,
You know and grasp your journey better than anyone else.
And the key to the best moments in life involves being true to yourself.
You smile softly,
And Cornelia intuits this is for you.
Removing the quilt from the rod and folding it neatly,
Bundling it with a ribbon.
She places the beautiful quilt in your hands and you hug it against your chest.
Feeling its cool fabric and weight in your arms,
The market slowly begins to wind down.
As you make your way back toward the stream and sit for a moment on a smooth black boulder that juts out over the water,
Your feet dangle midair as a delicate cool mist rises from the stream.
The sounds of the market fade away in your mind as your attention turns to the moonlit water.
In the silver flashes of the current,
For just a moment,
You see a figure reflected in the water.
A tall man with kind eyes,
His presence calm and comforting.
It's Jacob,
Watching over his beloved forest,
His spirit still guiding those who find their way to the nightmaker's market.
Though he says nothing,
His eyes meet yours.
Do you feel a deep connection?
As though he is so happy that you are here.
His reflection fades,
But the feeling of safety and belonging lingers in your heart.
Well past midnight,
Tiredness takes hold and the market shuts down.
You follow a path that leads you beyond the cluster of hobbit houses to a rustic cabin.
The cabin walls are fashioned from the gnarly branches of twisted trees that were taken down during a storm,
Salvaged by Jacob,
And transformed into this simple home.
The charm of the cabin is undeniable,
With its weathered lavender-gray wood blending seamlessly into the natural surroundings.
You ascend the creaky front stairs.
As this is one of many guest houses,
Visitors like you are welcome to stay in.
The interior is timeless and simple,
Yet incredibly comfortable.
A cross-brace through the open windows creates the perfect temperature for sleeping.
You head to the quaint open air bathroom to enjoy a shower fed by collected rainwater and warmed by solar energy.
As you step beneath the warm,
Gentle cascade,
You feel tension ease its way out of your muscles as they become as soft as candle wax.
You towel off and change into ivory cotton pajamas that hang neatly in a cedar armoire.
The lightweight fabric feels soft against your cleansed skin,
With a familiar scent of cedar that adds a touch of homeliness.
With your new quilt and dreamcatcher lantern in hand,
You make your way to the only bedroom in the small cabin,
Using the lantern to illuminate the way.
You place your dried flower corsage on the bed stand,
A cherished keepsake from the market.
You untie the ribbon around the quilt and unfold it.
You place it over a thin blanket and crisp sheets on the bed.
You peel back the covers and climb atop the mattress as moonlight pours through the windows that open out onto the forest.
The distant babbling of the stream provides a constant soothing backdrop as the leaves susurrate in the night air.
As the dreamcatcher lantern continues to glimmer,
You settle beneath the heavy quilt.
Feeling safe under its weight,
You open the jar to release any thoughts,
The remnants of the day that could interrupt a night of good dreams,
And then close it.
Your eyes grow heavy and shut as memories of the night market dance through your mind,
With loving reminders of the connections you've made on this magical night.
Feeling loved,
Feeling welcome,
And feeling the endless bounty of possibilities to reveal themselves in your dreams tonight.
You surrender to the incoming waves of slumber.
Finding bliss.
Finding peace.
Finding joy.
Finding sleep.
It's time to dream away.
Good night.
