Relax in the splendor of a fantasy sleep story and guided bedtime meditation before drifting into a deep healing sleep.
You are listening to The Water Lilies and in the story you will fall into an impressionist oil painting by Monet.
Guided by the stroke of a paintbrush,
You float into the serene settings of a world that is fluid and imaginative.
Far away from worldly concerns,
You are free to relish the comforts of floating on a lily beneath a bridge.
Like in a dream you will have the freedom of being formless and unencumbered by the constraints of being in a human body.
You may luxuriate in a time and place where anything is possible and every experience is tailor made to your preferences,
A place where only beauty and soothing experiences await.
It's time to dream away.
I would like to welcome you to Michelle's Sanctuary.
I am Michelle and invite you to think of this as your sanctuary as well.
I am here to be the calming voice that reminds you of the dreamer and creative spirit within you.
You have the power to tap into your imagination and let it take you on flights to seemingly unreachable destinations.
In this landscape anything is possible and you are the one in complete control of every adventure to come.
This is your time and you have earned it to relish a moment for rest and for relaxing and for feeling good.
You have triumphed through another day and now is the time for your body and mind to stand down.
It is time for you to ease into the comforts of your bed,
In the sanctuary of your room and your mind and to let go.
You are free of judgement and with that comes the freedom to simply be you.
The most authentic,
Let it all out version of you,
Comfortable and at ease.
But at any time you may let go of my voice and drift to sleep if that feels best.
So close your eyes,
Cuddle up and let's begin.
Take in a deep breath and let that breath fill your belly.
Let your chest rise and your heart expand towards your ceiling as if it is reaching out for the starry night sky.
And then sigh it all out.
Make a sound if you like.
Feel your belly sink as your body collapses into your bed.
Then take in a breath and yawn and then let your yawn turn into a cascading sigh,
Making a sound if that feels good.
Now your breath may return to normal in this perfect balance of inhalations and gentle sighs.
The give and take of floating and feeling light,
Then sinking and feeling grounded.
Your eyelids resting and your tired eyes.
It's now time to visualize yourself propped against the fluffiest of pillows and seated on a bed.
Perhaps this is your current room,
Perhaps your favorite room in this life,
Or perhaps a room that you are imagining right now.
There are lit candles placed on a bed stand and the flames flicker and dance.
The light in the room is soft and warm,
Timeless and dreamy.
The candles make the air fragrant with a pleasing,
Soporific fragrance.
Journal rests in your lap and the book's cover displays a replication of one of Monet's water lilies paintings.
His use of impressionism captures light in a way that time seems to shift and dozens of colorful water lilies float on a pond on a perfect day.
There is a picturesque bridge that spans over the pond and the perimeter of the deep blue green water is met with weeping willow trees and common reeds.
You feel the buttery texture of the book's cover and run your finger around the royal blue and soft lilac petals of the lilies.
Your mind drifts to thoughts of warmer days luxuriating by a pond before you open the journal to a clean page.
And on the white paper and with your favorite pen in your hand,
You begin to write out all that comes to mind.
And as you empty the words and thoughts kept in your mind out onto the page,
Your head becomes clear.
You imagine your mind pouring the words onto the page,
Foregoing your pen as handwritten words float onto the paper like leaves falling on the earth at the height of fall.
You inhale and exhale and feel clear and open.
You are relaxed and prepared to let your mind drift.
All that you have needed to release is now on the page and you close the journal.
Your attention returns to the cover and you focus on the impressionistic painting where lines are fluid and lilies are bleary as if looking through a camera lens coated in Vaseline.
The soft focus inspires a softness in your body.
You again trace your finger around the painting and suddenly the cover begins to change form.
You are drawn into the painting feeling a pool,
Feeling yourself melting into the landscape.
Your fingers like icicles basking in the sun turning to liquid.
As you surrender to the sensation of fluidity and this magnetic pool,
The candles in your room begin to flicker before they go out in a magical poof.
The marmalade hued wicks glow and the thin trails of smoke swirl towards the ceiling.
And you begin to swirl into the impressionist painting by Monet,
Diving into the scene hands first.
And you are suddenly floating through a powder blue sky and drifting through wispy clouds above the depicted village of Givonie.
It is a small town outside of Paris and you have traveled back to the 19th century.
You hear the voice of Monet whisper to you,
Welcome to my world.
Everyone discusses my art and pretends to understand as if it were necessary to understand and it is simply necessary to love.
And his words encourage you to connect with a feeling of love and warmth in your heart center.
And as you connect with this healing energy,
You feel yourself invited to join the beauty of water lilies.
Inside the painting,
It is as if you are inside a television set,
Looking to the world outside.
You see the strokes of a paint brush reaching towards you.
And as the tip of the brush graces the canvas,
You feel the bristles massage you gracefully and slowly.
They grip to you for but a moment before letting go.
The oil paint feels like a warm,
Incoming ocean wave flowing over you from head to toe.
Monet paints you in miniscule proportions so that you may perfectly fit in the delicate embrace of a lily pad when you explore and float through the scene.
The colors of the landscape are luscious and soothing,
In hues of emerald green and lavender and violet blue.
Some of the lilies on the pond are painted in pastels and their colors are reminiscent of hand-dyed eggs.
The common reeds around the pond rustle in the breeze and look like tufts of cinnamon whipped cream piled high atop slender,
Tall,
Caramel stems.
Weeping willows sway in the breeze and abundantly fill the edge of the pond.
A creamy white stone walking bridge arcs over the pond and connects to a garden.
And the longest of the mint green willow strands dip into the pond and create ripples that broaden into the center of the water.
The air is comfortable,
The perfect balmy temperature found at the end of spring and on the cusp of summer.
It is made fragrant by the mineral smell of the fresh water,
Of rich wet earth and fresh cut grass.
The landscape captures one of the rare moments in time where if you could change anything,
You would choose to change nothing at all.
And as you float through the air,
You move with the grace of a fluffy parachute-like seed blown off a dandelion clock by a gentle puff of air.
Leisurely surfing through the tepid atmosphere,
You first land on the feathery top of a common reed.
You rest on the honey and cream colored panicle and it feels like a bed of thinly braided ropes coated with soft fur.
Everything moves with fluidity,
With the gentleness of the ripples cast on the pond by the billowing tips of the weeping willows that grace it.
You succumb to this feeling of fluidity and listen to the chorus of frogs and cicadas singing out in exuberant splendor and celebrating the day.
Just in the golden light of the sun,
You relish the consistent sensation of radiant warmth met by the coolness of the breeze off the water.
Set in another century by the artistic hand of Monet,
You find this world is more peaceful and quiet.
The open space creates a sense of lightness in the pristine and untouched landscape.
You have had hints of this stillness and beauty before,
But in the intimate details of Monet's world,
The quietude is more pronounced and impactful.
Your attention turns to the rustling of soft fabrics and the clicking of heels on wooden planks.
Peering through the puffy strands of your resting spot,
You see a woman decked out in her Sunday's finest clothes,
Walking on the bridge.
Her spine and torso are rigidly kept in alignment with the help of a corset.
Her dress cascades down towards the bridge,
Like a waterfall of ivory lace.
Her delicate hands are covered in matching lace gloves and they wrap around the handle of a baby blue parasol.
She hums softly and the melody travels across the water and brings you into a soothing trance.
You are an observer and participant,
While remaining anonymous and inconspicuous,
Floating on the reed in your splendor,
Just as the elegant lady is in her splendor,
Appearing for a brief while before she disappears.
She leaves a lasting presence of love and beauty that touches you deeply.
A breeze blows through the land and carries with it the voice of Monet.
It feels as if he whispers directly into your ear.
What keeps my heart awake is colorful silence.
Just like in the most memorable of dreams,
Your heart stays awake,
Enlivened by colorful visions while your conscious mind drifts to sleep and your unconscious world unfolds.
And now you feel yourself becoming sleepy,
Yet yearn to explore the beauty of the landscape further.
You slide down the tender reed and softly land on a verdant lily pad.
The circular green pads are abundant and close together,
And you easily hop from one to the next.
A bob in the pond creating ripples of silvery blue that travel to the farthest shoreline before slowing down against the rocks.
You feel as if you are dancing in the sky,
Free of gravity,
Bouncing higher with the slightest effort than you anticipate before you land in the heart of a violet blue lily.
The silky petals fold in around you in a gentle embrace,
Just as the sun begins to set beyond the horizon.
The soft greens of the grass surrounding the pond are cast in the shadows of the trees.
You inhale the light citrusy fragrance of the lily before you exhale.
And each breath in Monet's world feels so different than in your normal routine.
The air undulates like invisible water,
Flowing on waves that massage you with each inhalation that lands in the depths of your belly,
All the while your body and the lily undulate on the waves of the pond.
A wave within a wave,
A dream within a dream,
A softness within a softness,
Layers of fluid motion as you float along the pond.
The stem of the lily pad,
Once an anchor rooted to the floor of the pond,
Softly snaps and you are freed.
Like a raft,
The lily floats and guides you towards the bridge,
Just as the sun is hidden behind the horizon and darkness gradually sets in.
The water becomes dark in the shadows beneath the coolness of the bridge.
You dip a finger into the pond and it is refreshing to touch.
You lay back and trust the lily to lead you wherever it is best for you to go.
And so you float to the other side of the bridge,
Where the water lilies are all the more ubiquitous.
Dozens of the floating flowers are cast in hues of pinks and purples that range from the softest of pastels to the darkest of saturated tones.
You run your hand along the cool silky petals that surround you on your floating lily.
The citrusy aroma transfers to your hands in unseen,
Oily droplets and the fragrance calms you.
The plethora of lilies is so abundant that the water of the pond is concealed beneath this magnificent garden.
A pair of birds fly out of the curtain of willows,
As if emerging on a stage for the first time.
The cornflower blue sky becomes a deep sapphire blue.
You hear a soft movement and suddenly Monet enters the painting and sits on the aubergine hued petals of a lily near you.
His long white and gray beard has a halo effect and the wisps of his whiskers are wavy and exaggerated in motion like the nature he depicts.
For a moment he simply sits and luxuriates in the symphony of color he intended to feel.
When he once described he would like to paint like a bird sings.
As if on command the sound of a loon carries across the water and echoes beneath a bridge in a melodic cry.
And from the pocket of his worn in navy blue jacket he removes a paintbrush.
As he does this the aroma of turpentine lingers in the air.
The smell reminds you of pine trees and black licorice.
And all the washings in a lifetime will never lift it from his clothing worn when painting.
You look into his refulgent eyes.
They twinkle with mischief and encouragement.
He extends the paintbrush towards you and nods slowly and with authority.
You reach out and touch the cool slender wooden handle and consider the freedom you have to enhance the world around you.
And as you look towards the darkened sky you hear a shuffle and suddenly Monet has disappeared into thin air.
The paintbrush begins to sparkle and reflects light as if a flashlight moving in slow motion.
You rise and balance in the lily as it floats on the pond.
The paintbrush now like a magic wand helps you change the world around you.
You paint fireflies that twinkle in shades of luminous yellow and glow all around you.
You paint floating candles on the reflective surface of the pond and watch the flames flicker and dance in the night air.
The temperature drops and you relish the coolness that is perfect for sleep.
And with no limitations and the freedom to design your own impressionistic world,
You paint stars across the sky.
You add swirling clouds and metallic lavender gray and you paint the moon,
Not quite full,
But with enough brilliance to light up the celestial sphere.
To an artist a paintbrush is the magic wand that magnifies the beauty or the emotions that are experienced in the world,
But through his or her eyes.
And you wonder,
How do you see the world?
How do you imagine a world by your creative design?
Now is the time to find out,
Before you cross over the bridge to your sleeping life,
You are free to create.
You are free to wave Monet's brush and create a masterpiece.
And as you imagine,
Your lily pad begins to take off like a swan taking flight off the calm waters of the pond.
You rise slowly,
Ascending towards the starry skies.
You float through the air alongside the fireflies and drift through the swaying reeds.
You soar towards the weeping willow tree and like the birds you fly through its green curtain.
You feel the willows run against your face and softly brush against the petals of the lily.
You fly through the other side of the willow tree and look down upon the bridge where an elegant lady once walked beneath her parasol.
Then you go towards the light of the moon.
Among the stars you float in the soft petals once painted by Monet as he created his Water Lilies series.
The water lily floats across the atmosphere like a magic carpet ride.
The serenity of the night calms you and brings you closer to sleep.
You luxuriate in this in-between world,
Drifting between awareness and sleep.
You exist where the dreamiest of visions and memories waft over you and invite you to dive deeper into the subconscious revelations that await you.
In the deep of the night you feel light and untethered to the earth as you float higher and higher up.
As tiredness creeps in,
The magical paintbrush cloaks the landscape in purple-black darkness.
Your imagination invites the soothing,
Comforting darkness of night.
And you float through the space between Monet's world and your bed at home.
And with a deep inhalation of someone deeply at peace,
Ready to let go,
You sigh out in an exhalation,
Soft and childlike.
You are again tucked in beneath your blankets and in the safe embrace of your bed.
You are free to drift and let go,
To surrender to sleep,
To be gifted the ultimate wand of your imagination,
The one that paints your nighttime respite with healing and vivid dreams.
Feeling as soft as the petals of a water lily,
Feeling as relaxed as a willow that surrenders to the tepid breeze.
Your breath undulates like the ripples on the pond,
Gentle and slow.
You find you are ready to cross over the bridge to your sleeping life,
Safe,
Relaxed,
Cozy.
In the sanctuary of your room,
In the sanctuary of your mind.
And I am going to count you down to a night of the best sleep where you have earned it and you deserve it.
Ten.
Nine.
Eight.
Seven.
Six.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
Finding peace.
Finding stillness.
Finding the oasis of your mind.
Finding sleep.
It's time to dream away.
Good night.
Good night.
Good night.
Good night.
Good night.
Good night.
Good night.
Good night.
Good night.
Good night.
Good night.
Good night.
Good night.
Good night.
Good night.
Good night.
Good night.
Good night.
Good night.
Good night.
Good night.
Good night.
Good night.
