In tonight's rainy sleep story for grown-ups,
Fall asleep fast with a beguiling mental vacation.
You are listening to The Moon Cottage,
A cozy bedtime story set in a centuries-old cottage tucked away in a quiet forest clearing.
Traces of the moon are found in its architecture,
And anchors of its comfort are found in its soft purring feline guardians.
In a sanctuary of weathered wood and moonlit beams,
The warmth of spring lingers in the night before the rain arrives,
And a maternal host invites you to enjoy her getaway from it all.
So cuddle up and prepare for a sleepy adventure.
It's time to dream away.
Welcome to Michelle's Sanctuary.
I am Michelle and I hope you allow my voice to greet you like a compassionate friend.
Please feel free to flesh out the details of our journey in a way that most soothes you,
Taking the liberty to change any detail,
And fall asleep whenever you wish.
This story is inspired by memories of my early childhood and a friend of my mother's who had waist-length hair and drove a Volkswagen bug.
To me,
She had the ethereal energy of a hippie.
Her mere presence was magical.
Her laugh was infectious.
This story also pays tribute to all the feline friends throughout my life who have greeted me with purrs,
Their weight and snuggles offering comfort while they slept by my side.
To prepare for tonight's moonlit journey,
Let's enjoy a few relaxing breaths together.
It'll only take a couple minutes.
Settle into the sanctuary of your room and mind.
Let out a sigh,
Casting away all the things that meddle with your peace right now.
There's no time to hold them,
For now is dedicated to your comfort and rest.
Inhale the soothing night air,
Expanding and becoming light in body and spirit.
Maybe open your mouth and yawn,
And let out another sigh as I count us down.
5 Begin at the crown of your head,
Feeling a soft,
Glistening,
Opal moonlight touch your brow.
Every tiny muscle around your eyes begins to let go,
Smoothing out like the surface of a glassy lake.
Your jaw and tongue become soft,
Releasing the day's unspoken words.
4 The relaxation flows like warm honey down into your shoulders and chest.
Feel your heart rate slowing to match the evocative rhythm of the forest.
With every exhale,
Your lungs become light,
And the tension in your arms simply evaporates,
Leaving your hands heavy and still.
3 Now focus on your center.
Breathe in the botanical notes of lavender and aged cedar,
Letting the aroma settle deep into your belly.
Feel your spine softening,
Each vertebra sinking deeper into the mattress,
As if you are being cradled by the earth itself.
2 The moon glow moves down through your hips and legs.
Your knees go soft,
And the muscles in your calves stop their reaching.
3 Feel a gentle warmth tingling in your toes,
As the last bit of physical weight leaves you.
You are floating in a state of pure evocative stillness.
4 You are completely submerged in the peace and promise of this getaway.
Your mind is a quiet clearing.
Your body is a vessel of rest.
5 You are light,
You are safe,
And your imagination is now ready to cast the night in soothing visuals.
It's time for the story to begin.
The Moon Cottage has been standing in this clearing for centuries.
A place built for the very purpose of dreaming.
Not just dreaming through the night,
But dreaming through the days,
Envisioning all the things a soul might like to experience.
As you walk the winding forest past to this mystical dwelling,
The air feels slow and warm,
Carrying the rich,
Heady hint of spring's promise.
And that promise is,
There are only more warm days to come.
You can feel the grass,
Damp with the first silvering of dew,
Brushing softly against your ankles like satin ribbons.
As you arrive at the clearing,
Overhead the sky holds the pink moon,
Spring's first full moon,
Casting an otherworldly,
Rosy,
Opal aura over the entire clearing.
The night offers the enduring hope that winter's great thaw is long gone,
And the warmth of the damp,
Fertile earth rises to meet the pristine night air.
Moonbeams stream through the budding branches and solid pillars of light,
Illuminating the ancient oaks that guard the cottage.
Every leaf and stone seems vibrant,
Bathed in this special,
Celestial glow.
Hanging from the eaves and the sturdy branches are dangling crystals that sway in the gentle breeze,
Catching the pink moon's light and scattering it like soft diamonds across the landscape.
The cottage comes into view,
Its lavender-gray boards are silvered by time and glow in the breathing with the new life of the season.
You notice the modern touches that complement the history of the place.
Smooth dome-shaped,
Enclosed glass balconies on the second floor that reflect the stars,
And a porch floor inlaid with intricate moonstone gem mosaics.
A trio of cats settle on these iridescent white stones,
As the moonlight reflects off their whiskers and light patches of fur.
In the distance,
A young doe and her two spotted fawns move silently through the trees,
Their graceful silhouettes adding to the stillness of the scene and the promise of new beginnings.
Everything here is soft,
Bathed in the scent of wild mint and spring blossoms.
For twenty years now,
Anita has called the Moon Cottage home.
She stands in the heart of the clearing,
Tending to her night garden,
Awaiting your arrival.
Much like her beloved cats,
She's long been a creature of the night,
And so it was only natural for her to be drawn to a Moon Cottage.
Her long,
Silver hair flows down to her waist,
A shimmering cascade of silky strands that billow in the night air.
She's a vision of timeless peace,
Her face etched with the lines of many stories and mischievous adventures.
Her long,
Flowing violet blouse and burgundy skirt offer layers of chiffon as a crocheted chenille wrap rests on her strong shoulders.
Her manicured hands feature an array of smoky quartz,
Silver,
And turquoise rings that are collected from around the world during her days of humanitarian work.
She hears your arrival,
Turning gracefully with a sparkle in her eyes.
A sense of inner defiance and deep intelligence in her gaze.
Her face softens into a wide smile.
Oh,
So many decades and lifetimes ago,
Anita was pursued by a suitor who didn't take well when she declined the life he imagined for her.
Not one to understand,
A dreamer and free spirit like Anita,
He said.
You keep this up and you'll spend your days as an old cat lady.
But he intended to be an insult or a curse at the time,
Since everyone tried to frighten young girls with the thought of being a spinster.
Became an insightful idea for Anita.
She simply smiled at him,
Nodding silently with a radiant,
Certain look in her eyes.
Unintentionally,
He planted a vision in her head of the beautiful,
Peaceful life she would create one day at the Moon Cottage.
Throughout her youth,
She was called a hippie,
Another label that just sort of hung in the air.
But in truth,
She was a soul of service who knew her maternal energy was best spread around the world,
Rather than confined to one house.
She spent her younger years honoring nature and tending to the motherless children of the world,
Both the young ones and the old,
Who desperately yearned for some softness.
She poured herself into the earth and into the hearts of others.
A life of rich fulfillment that eventually led her back to this clearing.
Now,
In her retirement at the Moon Cottage,
She's realized that vision of purrs and warm snuggles knowing that the cats give back even more than she could ever give to them.
You approach the lavender-gray picket fence that surrounds the cottage.
Its aged patina deepens the cottage's charm and storybook allure.
The gentle air kisses your skin,
Carrying the fragrant notes of tea and newly budding roses.
Your palm lands on the cool metal latch of the fence as you open it,
And the door slowly creaks as it swings open.
Before Anita can greet you,
The cat detaches herself from the shadows of the garden and trots towards you with a friendly,
High-held tail.
She's a soft,
Dilute calico with patches of muted peach and dove gray.
She leans her weight into your shins,
Rubbing her body against your legs,
And weaving through them with an unexpected welcome.
You can feel the heat of her soft,
Warm body through your clothes,
And a deep,
Steady vibration of her purr.
It grounds you to the earth,
Somehow quieting all the lingering thoughts in your mind that dared to take you out at this beautiful and precious moment.
Anita smiles,
That's Priscilla.
She then says,
Welcome to the Moon Cottage.
Priscilla looks up at you with wide,
Amber eyes,
Offering a slow series of delicate blinks that feel like a quiet invitation to leave the rest of the world behind.
You bend down and scratch her fuzzy chin,
And she presses the full weight of her face into your hand.
Anita comes closer and Priscilla slinks over,
Brushes against her skirt,
Before returning to the garden and settling on a small bench.
Anita wraps her arms around you in a hug,
Mentioning how glad she is that you've come for a visit.
A beautiful piece of raw amethyst dangles from a herringbone silver chain,
And you feel its weight against you in the embrace.
The enchanting stone is larger than a cat's paw,
And its jagged,
Purple facets glow with a deep internal fire as she steps back and invites you to follow her to the gazebo.
The stone is her anchor,
A piece of the earth's beauty that she carries with her,
Vibrating with the same steady,
Calm frequency that she radiates to everyone who has been lucky enough to be in her presence.
Surrounding her as if they are an extension of her own shadow and soul are the sweet cats of Moon Cottage,
Each a unique masterpiece of color and form.
There is a large ginger tomcat with tattered ears,
A big appetite,
And a heart of gold.
There's a petite midnight black queen whose fur looks like raven feathers,
And a pastel torby kitten not more than six months old.
Is he a fluffy Himalayan with blue eyes like a frozen glacial lake,
And several sleek tabbies with stripes as crisp as the inner rings of an old tree trunk?
Long ago,
Having visited the Hemingway House in Key West,
Anita encountered the six-toed kitties and felt even more determined to create her own cattery.
These purring companions are the guardians of the cottage,
Moving sleekly through the lunar light with a synchronized flow that suggests they are all part of one living,
Breathing family.
Anita seems to float through the night air.
She guides you to the gazebo,
A quaint structure of pearly white wood and intricate latticework that sits like a jewel in the garden.
Small ivory planters overflowing with vibrant aromatic green catnip and tall blades of cat grass hang over the railing along with cat swings and hammocks.
The cats move toward these planters,
Some nibbling gently on the greens,
Others simply lounging on the gazebo balcony,
Their tails swinging contentedly in the spring night.
The songs of crickets fill the air,
Joining the soothing sound of a half-dozen fountains throughout the tended yard.
Moonlight creates prisms in the varying cascades,
Some tall,
Slender,
And elegant,
While others are stout and wide.
As you step into the gazebo,
The scent of the spring garden follows you,
A mix of damp earth with a hint of catnip.
Candles flicker within colorful glass lanterns,
Adding a jewel-toned glow to the otherwise silver and black world.
You sit into a plush,
Plum-upholstered seat that feels like a velvet hug.
A silver,
Ornate,
Antique teapot rests on a tray and a glass table with sapphire-blue teacups and saucers that feature silver stars and a crescent moon.
Anita pours the tea with steady hands,
The liquid a deep,
Rich amber that smells of toasted honey,
Vanilla,
And the faintest hint of wild bergamot.
She claims it's her special potion for sleep,
And tea is a routine she enjoys outside on late nights like this.
The tea is grounding,
Each sip sending a silky wave of relaxation and warmth through your chest.
The cats begin to settle on the plum cushions around you,
Their warmth radiating through the fabric as they purr.
You notice a large,
Smoky gray Maine Coon reclining on the top of a chair,
His whiskers twitching as he watches the pearlescent fountain nearby.
Time feels like a slow,
Silver river that weaves through an endless night of comfort,
And Anita watches you with eyes that have seen the world and now chosen the woods.
She tells you that each cat here found her when they needed refuge most,
Much like you and other guests that come to the Moon Cottage.
She explains that the thaw of spring is a gift for the heart,
A chance to open up like the blossoms in the clearing.
In this gazebo,
Surrounded by the emerald green of the cat grass and the purple glow of her amethyst,
You feel completely at ease.
The warmth of the silver teapot and the weight of the cats creates a perimeter of safety that conjures a bone-deep sense of comfort and peace.
Since arriving at Moon Cottage,
You feel seen and accepted,
And a deep connection stirs within you as this place instantly becomes a home away from home.
You watch the cats that now bathe in the moonlight,
Some carefully traversing the railing at its most narrow points with ethereal grace.
Anita recites a quote from Jules Verne who said,
".
.
.
I believe cats to be spirits come to Earth.
A cat,
I am sure,
Could walk on a cloud without coming through.
" A few stray,
Fluffy,
Silvery clouds grace the midnight plum sky,
Concealing the celestial tapestry of twinkling stars.
And for a moment,
You imagine the cats ascending into the heavens,
Playfully leaping from cloud to cloud.
It's a dreamy visual that lingers even after you finish the last drops of tea.
The air shifts,
Cooling and sweetening as the first heavy droplets begin to fall over the forest.
Darker clouds arrive,
Their purple-gray underbellies absorbing the slivers of moonlight that peek through.
The cats are even better at predicting the arrival of the storm than you or the shelter of the cottage,
Tails held high in anticipation.
Only the kitten lingers,
Excited to play in the rain.
You rise with Anita,
Your hands steady,
As you help carry the silver tray back toward the house.
A light mist hovers over the garden as the first small drops arrive,
Darkening the lavender-gray wood of the porch.
As you step onto the veranda,
You pause to look down at the Moonstone Gem Mosaics,
Arranged upon the floorboards with pieces of pearly white oyster shells.
The patterns are set in the shapes of crescent and full moons,
Glowing with an internal pearlescent light that seems to defy the gathering shadows Above you,
Moon chimes made of thin silver and crystal hang from the eaves,
Singing a delicate melody as the wind brushes past them.
You approach the heavy oak door,
The fingers of your free hand,
Tracing the deep,
Ancient engraving of a moon nestled in the wood.
You notice it matches the same etched designs on the wisteria-hued shutters.
Just as you cross the threshold,
The sky opens up.
And the rain begins to fall steadily.
All ten cats pad quickly ahead of you into the heart of the cottage,
Their paws pitter-pattering on the wood in a soft flurry of fluff.
You set the tray down on a weathered,
Rustic farmhouse table,
The wood smooth from years of use.
Anita moves to the hearth,
Kneeling to coax a fire into life.
There's something delicious,
Almost rebellious,
About being awake at this late hour.
Far from the demands of the morning,
You find yourself drawn to the living room,
Where the architecture is a tribute to the feline residents.
High above,
Cedar cat paths and glass-bottomed walkways crisscross the rafters,
Leading to hidden carpeted nests and sky-high retreats where a stray ear or a twitching tail is all you can see.
You choose to settle on a deep,
Rose-pink velvet settee that faces the growing warmth of the fire as Anita gently picks up the main coon cat from her armchair and settles with the corpulent feline on her lap.
Almost immediately,
Silver-gray tabby finds her way to you,
Leaping lightly onto the cushion and kneading the velvet as if preparing dough before settling into your lap.
When Anita looks over from the crackling logs and tells you the cat's name,
It resonates through you like a clear bell.
It is a name that has always held a profound meaning in your life.
A name from a cherished memory,
Or a story you were once told.
When you tell Anita this,
She smiles,
The firelight dancing in her eyes.
I'm not surprised,
She says softly.
I think you are destined to meet.
As you run your fingers through the tabby's silky cool fur,
Your energies begin to align.
The two of you co-regulate your nervous systems as they slow and deepen in sync with the logs that crackle and pop.
The steady rhythm of the rain against the window becomes the perfect percussive beat to her resonant purr.
A heavy,
Sweet wave of tiredness washes over you as you notice the other cats have tucked themselves away into their favorite hideouts and are all now falling into a peaceful sleep.
Anita stands and offers to bring you to your room.
You rise slowly,
Feeling heavy-limbed and relaxed,
With a silver tabby leading you both up the stairs.
You ascend to the second floor,
Entering a suite that feels like a lavender-hued dream.
The room is an oasis of soft violets and Anita's botanical paintings,
Featuring a magnificent,
Tall four-poster bed tucked into a cozy,
Fabric-lined alcove.
Beyond the bed is a modern addition,
A glass-enclosed,
Dome-shaped balcony where an elegant,
Clawfoot tub sits waiting.
Folded neatly at the foot of the bed are freshly laundered ivory flannel pajamas and plush towels that smell of spring.
Anita wishes you the sweetest of dreams and slips away,
Leaving you with all that you need in the quiet company of the silver tabby.
You draw a bath,
Sinking into the hot,
Relaxing water as the rain streaks the glass dome above you.
The tabby sits on a pedestal at the edge of the tub,
Playfully dipping a single paw into the steamy water.
And then retracting with surprise.
You playfully flick a drop or two toward her and she dashes away into the shadows of the room,
Only to reappear a moment later,
Wiggling her booty and tail with playful readiness.
You lightly splash her again,
Laughing softly at the silly game beneath the storm clouds,
Feeling all seriousness of the world fully dissolve.
After a few rounds of this little game,
You both become tired.
And she curls up on the lilac bath mat to wait for you.
You inhale deeply and with such profound ease,
You float to the top of the water,
Feeling light and at the same time,
Heady with sleep.
You slowly stand and towel off and change into the soft flannel pajamas.
The grey tabby snakes around your legs,
Keeping you alert to the present moment as you both make your way to the four poster bed.
You peel back the heavy lavender duvet and the crisp,
Cool top sheet.
As you settle into the supportive mattress,
The silver tabby jumps up beside you and makes a chirpy,
Affectionate meow.
She spins in three perfect,
Deliberate circles before tucking herself tightly against your side and kneading your arm.
Her weight is a reassuring presence,
A grounded anchor.
And what a wonderful feeling it is to spend this rainy night at Moon Cottage.
Her serene purrs join the soundtrack of the steady rain.
And you feel yourself drifting delightfully effortlessly across the bridge between your waking life and the world of dreams.
Finding comfort,
Finding connection,
Finding peace.
