Welcome to Sleep Stories with me,
Kate Rock.
Settle yourself in,
Allow the day to loosen its hold on you.
Wherever your body rests,
Feel it embraced by warmth,
Supported without condition.
Be comfortable.
Imagine a small village settled among rolling green hills.
Chimneys send up thin threads of smoke into the cool evening air.
The cobblestones beneath your feet still hold the last trace of warmth from the fading day.
Lanterns glow softly in cottage windows.
The scent of hearthfire lingers.
This is your home,
Familiar and safe.
You hear the murmured goodnights of neighbours,
The soft clink of teacups being washed,
The gentle lull of a day coming to rest.
You know every corner here,
Every stone,
Every sound.
And yet tonight,
Something in the air feels different,
Richer,
Expectant.
At the edge of the village,
Just past an old stone bridge,
You notice a faint glow.
Not the warm gold of lamplight,
Nor moonlight,
Nor starlight.
Something older,
Something softer.
As you gaze at this light,
A quiet stirring begins inside your chest,
A gentle whisper of invitation,
Almost like a memory calling you home.
And in the stillness,
You feel perhaps it is time,
Time to wander,
Time to listen,
Time to follow the threads of magic that stir only for those who walk slowly enough to feel them.
You look back to the village,
Warm windows,
Familiar paths,
The soft curl of smoke rising into dusk,
Comfort,
Safety,
Predictability.
But the glow beyond the bridge pulses again,
The smallest,
Softest heartbeat of light,
Not tugging you away from home,
But gently inviting you deeper into yourself.
You take a deep breath in,
And the decision settles quietly into your bones.
You take a single step toward the glow.
The night exhales,
The road ahead clears.
You walk past the old stone bridge.
Each footstep feels both ordinary and strangely momentous,
As though the stones themselves remember the countless travelers who once crossed into wonder.
Halfway across,
You pause.
Behind you,
Golden windows.
Ahead,
The soft,
Otherworldly glow.
You take one more step,
Just one.
It is enough.
You feel the world begin to shift,
Gently,
Kindly,
Opening a door that no map has ever seen.
Beyond the bridge,
The glow takes shape.
A figure approaches,
Carrying a lantern of pale blue light.
The lantern bearer is neither young nor old,
Neither man nor woman,
Somehow all,
And yet neither.
Their cloak shimmers like woven twilight.
They greet you with a warm,
Knowing smile,
As though they have waited,
Patiently,
A long time for you to come.
Welcome,
Traveler,
They say softly.
You have heard the quiet call.
Few do.
Fewer still follow.
Tonight,
You walk the gentle road between the waking world and the dreaming one.
They lift the lantern slightly,
And the path ahead brightens.
A narrow trail through tall,
Silver grasses,
Swaying as though breathing.
Walk with me,
They say.
The world is ready to show you its softer secrets.
You walk beside the lantern bearer,
The silver grasses humming faintly as though each blade carries a tiny thread of music.
Fireflies drift through the air,
Yet their glow is softer,
Bluer,
As if they are lit by moonlight instead of fire.
The path winds through quiet hills,
Where ancient stones rise like gentle giants fallen asleep.
The lantern bearer stops.
Every traveler receives a companion,
They say,
Someone or something who walks the gentlest miles with them.
From the grass emerges a small creature,
A fox with pale moonlit fur and eyes the warm amber of lantern light.
It steps toward you,
Slow and sure,
And sits at your feet,
Tail curled neatly.
It blinks once,
An unmistakable greeting.
The lantern bearer nods.
He has chosen you,
A good sign.
His kind walk only with true-hearted wanderers.
You follow the fox as he guides you off the path and into a quiet woodland.
The trees part as you move,
Branches lifting slowly as though bowing in welcome.
The air grows still,
Softer.
Time loosens.
A clearing opens ahead where a pool of perfectly still water waits.
The surface reflects the sky,
Though no stars are visible yet.
The pool shows not what is above,
But what is within.
The fox pats to the edge and looks into the water.
You join him.
The reflection you see is peaceful.
Your face softened,
Your eyes luminous,
Your posture unburdened.
And around your reflection,
In shimmering outline,
Is the faint suggestion of wings,
Or light,
Or some quiet power you had forgotten.
The lantern bearer speaks behind you.
Every traveler carries a quiet gift.
Most simply forget to look for it.
The pool brightens.
Slowly,
Delicately,
An object rises from its center.
A small stone,
Perfectly smooth,
Glowing faintly with warm,
Golden light.
It floats into your hands,
Weightless and warm.
This,
The lantern bearer murmurs,
Is rest.
Not the rest you stumble into at the end of a weary day,
But the deep rest that remembers you.
Warmth starts to spread through your palms.
Up your arms.
Across your chest.
Down your spine.
A calm so profound,
It feels like ancient magic settling into your bones.
The fox curls up beside you.
The lantern bearer dims their light as stars finally appear above.
One by one,
Until the whole sky glows with soft constellations unknown to the waking world.
You need not walk back,
The lantern bearer whispers.
Rest will take you where you need to go.
Your eyes grow heavy.
Your breath deepens.
And the world softens into velvet darkness.
Sleep now,
Gentle traveler.
You have walked far enough for one night.
The fox presses against your side,
Warm and reassuring.
The stars shimmer.
The world fades.
And you drift softly into a deep,
Quiet sleep.
Thanks for watching!
