The Ruins Of Atlantis

In tonight’s sleep story, you are a citizen of the underwater kingdom of Atlantis, and a respected collector of rarities. While the city prepares to honor your dear friend, you endeavor to find a gift to present to her. You search a strange ruin on the outskirts of the kingdom, uncovering evidence that Atlantis was once part of the surface world.

Ocean breath meditation

Music/Sound: A Glimpse of Avalon, The Crystal Castle by Flouw, Harbours & Oceans by Magnus Boqvist, Epidemic Sound

Transcript

Venture into the depths of the ocean and discover ancient secrets in tonight's fantasy bedtime story.

Sleep in Sorcery is a folklore and fantasy inspired sleep series.

My name is Laurel and I'll be your guide on tonight's fantastical journey.

Sleep in Sorcery is one part bedtime story,

One part guided meditation,

And one part dreamy adventure.

I'm here to help you fall asleep.

So whenever you're ready,

Feel free to let go of my voice.

If you're still awake at the end of the story,

I'll guide you through a breathing exercise for meaningful rest and flow.

In tonight's story,

You are a citizen of the underwater kingdom of Atlantis and a respected collector of rarities.

While the city prepares to honor your dear friend,

You endeavor to find a gift to present to her.

You search a strange ruin on the outskirts of the kingdom,

Uncovering clues that Atlantis was once part of the surface world.

Before we begin our story,

Take some time to let go of everything that's happened today.

Settle in and get comfortable wherever it is you're resting.

Make up space.

Consciously release areas of tension in your body.

Let troublesome thoughts go.

Let them roll off of your mind like water.

Let your breath aid you in relaxing.

Feel how your belly and chest rise and fall with the in-breath and out-breath.

Feel how cool and clear your breath is as it rushes in.

How much more you can let go as it rushes out.

In our bedtime story tonight,

You'll acquire the ability to breathe underwater.

It will come as naturally to you as oxygen does now,

In and out,

Nourishing you and giving you strength and vitality.

Your breath will come to you without thought,

Without effort,

Cool and clarifying,

Smooth and soft.

Find your own flow.

As we slip beneath the waves toward the deepest reaches of the Atlantic Ocean,

There's a glimmer of light reflecting in the shimmering movement of water,

A glimmer of something long lost.

Vast and unknowable is the kingdom of the ocean.

You like it that way.

Far beyond the reach of light,

Deep in the impenetrable darkness,

There lies your heart and your quest.

Crystalline structures like sugared castles cling to the rock shelves.

You slip like a sheet of light through the narrowest of crevices,

Expertly navigating the labyrinth of reef.

This is who you are.

Mover,

Diver,

Summoner,

Whisperer.

You know the secrets of hidden places.

You swim deeper than most,

Plumb depths untold,

And retrieve treasures unimagined.

Your hair blooms behind you,

Rippling in the soft sway.

You relish the cool calm of the water at this depth.

Your eyes feast on the dim blue edging toward inky darkness,

Slowly adjusting to the change in visibility.

Your mind fills in the absence of light with patterns,

Inventing images.

How long untouched has this region been by Atlantean hands,

You wonder?

What wonders might you discover just beyond the borders of the kingdom?

A trade like yours,

Which is mostly scavenging,

No matter how strongly you reinforce the terms collector,

Trader,

Merchant,

And the like,

Requires skill,

Tact,

And diplomacy.

Since its founding,

The kingdom of Atlantis has held strong,

Steadfast policies about cooperation and collaboration with the plentiful species and tribes of the sea.

More than anything,

The kingdom's thriving economy relies on a few strategic relationships and low intervention with the outside ocean.

Atlantis endeavors to make no enemies and maintain its friends.

Citizens like you,

Who operate on the fringes,

Must work in the gray areas of such philosophies.

You must get to know everyone,

Curry favor with everyone,

From mollusk to mammal.

You have a widespread network of contacts,

Allies,

And partners in the profession,

With whom you barter,

Trade,

And bargain for rare and exquisite wares to sell in your shop.

You've traded with oysters for their most precious pearls.

You've been treated with an octopus for access to his treasure trove.

You've raided shipwrecks and split the bounty with a school of snapper.

When it comes to searching unexcavated ruins or uninhabited places outside the reach of Atlantean rule,

You must be prepared to negotiate.

You never know when an uncharted region may have been claimed by some band of dragonfish,

A wily archetuthis,

Or other dwellers of the deep ocean trench.

But now your eyes have adjusted,

And as the darkness subsides,

You are amazed by the scene taking shape before you.

It's stranger and more immense than you can have imagined.

You feel your lips curl into a smile.

There's a reason you've never come here before,

Besides the depth for which you had to train your eyes and body.

There are legends about this part of the ocean beyond the eastern wall of Atlantis.

The most commonly told among your circles is of a trench so deep and so wide that its end can never be found.

You could swim your whole life long and never find the bottom,

But you'd become lost in the darkness,

So black it lets in no whisper of light.

You recall in your childhood there was an old woman who lived nearby and liked to scare children with the idea that the trench,

So deep it had no bottom,

Could swallow things up,

That it was only lying in wait to swallow up the whole kingdom.

But this was just a story.

The great scientists of Atlantis debunked the trench tales long ago and put right any mind that feared the swallowing up of the kingdom.

Still,

Rumors and legends persisted as they are wont to do in the face of such mystery.

The legendary area earned the name the fissure for its appearance to those looking down from above.

There is a drop off in the ocean floor here,

Even if there is no deep sea trench.

One that looks like a crack down the middle of the ground,

As if someone had taken a giant knife and dragged it across the ocean floor,

Splitting it open here.

The heart of the kingdom lies in a part of the sea,

Penetrated by ample light,

Ideal for agriculture and a thriving population.

So the citizens of Atlantis live their days in warmth.

But you've never feared the cold or the dark.

It's almost as if the fissure is calling to you.

Surely,

This unexplored cavity,

So close to the walls of Atlantis,

Should hide items of some value.

You haven't chosen just any day to swim deeper than ever before in search of pearls or other valuables.

While you slip off to the quiet,

Untroubled waters of the fissure,

The whole kingdom of Atlantis is aflutter with preparations for today's ceremony.

You should be there too,

Scrubbing algae from the sides of homes on the parade route or helping your family prepare coral arrangements and food for the feasting.

But you have no talent for such things.

This,

You're convinced,

Is how you can be most helpful.

An occasion like today's doesn't come along often.

In a few hours,

The parade will commence and then a magnificent feast at the Queen's table,

Always set gloriously with enough places for every citizen of Atlantis.

Today,

By the hand of the Queen herself,

A new member will be inducted into the prestigious Order of the Tides.

A new Tide Master hasn't been selected in almost five years,

Not since before the Queen's coronation.

And this time,

For the first time,

The new Selectee is a commoner rather than a member of the Atlantean nobility.

Such a thing was unheard of under the old King,

Who held fast to tradition.

But the new Queen has brought significant change in the early years of her rule,

And the induction of a common citizen to her highest Order of Knighthood is a cause for huge celebration.

It's personal,

Too.

The new Honoree is not just any commoner,

But your oldest friend,

Allira,

With whom you played as children and listened to the legends of the fissure before swimming off,

Shrieking and laughing into the reef.

You can think of no one more deserving of the honor than Allira.

She's brave,

Noble,

And kind.

She led a successful diplomatic mission to the Arctic Ocean last year,

Which strengthened the Atlantean position.

She worked her way up to become one of the Queen's most trusted advisors,

But she's continued to do charitable work in the neighborhood you grew up in.

You've both made names for yourselves since coming of age in vastly different ways.

You became a prominent merchant,

And she a highly respected consul on the verge of becoming a tide master.

You're proud of her.

And so it's with Allira in mind that you take the plunge today.

You've rung your hands for weeks over the thought of not having the perfect gift for her on the day of her knighting.

You searched far and wide,

Called in favors with your most noteworthy connections,

But nothing seemed right for the occasion.

You rejected a diadem of coral and sea glass,

A silver knife with mother-of-pearl inlay,

And a harp so sensitive its strings could be played by the gentle sway of the ocean's waters.

None suited your friend or the esteem of her position.

So at last,

Before you give up on the endeavor altogether,

You come to the fissure and dive.

Just as your eyes took time to adjust to the onslaught of darkness,

Your body slowly works to find balance in the shifting temperature,

From the sun-soaked warmth of the Atlantean streets to the chill of deep sea.

You were ready for it,

And with time your body finds a tender equilibrium,

Relaxing into the pocket of cold.

The wonders and wildness of the ocean never cease to amaze you.

For a civilization so advanced in its technology and philosophy,

Atlanteans are still a superstitious lot.

In the legends surrounding the fissure,

A whole panoply of myths inform the Atlantean mind.

It's easy to understand why.

The ocean,

So vast and seemingly endless in all directions,

Is home to inconceivable things.

The mind grasps for understanding,

Especially in places of darkness and mystery.

There are unknown places,

Other worlds even beyond your reach,

Stories of which spring from curiosity or half-remembered communication with other tribes.

For instance,

Though Atlanteans rarely swim so near it,

It's known that another realm lies past the barrier of the water above.

It's the domain of the sun and moon,

Those faraway sources of ethereal light.

But very little is known about the surface world,

And so a wealth of folklore has evolved around it.

From its mysterious inhabitants,

Perhaps very like Atlanteans,

Except that they walk instead of swim,

To a persistent belief that the surface world is an afterlife reserved for the great warriors,

Kings,

And heroes of Atlantis,

A sunlit paradise to which they retire when their work in the ocean is done.

You're not sure what you believe.

Some of your merchant partners have been there.

Whales and dolphins,

For example,

Will breach the surface to satisfy cravings for air,

But they bring little insight into the goings-on beyond mere weather reports.

Atlanteans,

For all their curiosity,

Have little interest in spying on such a place,

If only for fear that the air might be toxic to your kind.

As you descend deeper into the fissure,

For now it's clear that it is not indeed bottomless.

You marvel at the eerie quiet of the place.

Only a few leagues away,

Preparations and early celebrations are commencing for a raucous triumph.

Here,

All is peaceful,

Only a field of ambient sound rumbling low and constant.

So constant,

In fact,

That you only notice it now while searching your senses for sound.

The closest thing in the deep ocean to pure silence.

That quiet should fall over such an eerie and serene sight is no surprise.

You fall like a pebble toward it,

Your eyes still drinking in images from darkness.

Around you,

As though embedded in the deep sea floor,

Are strange structures of varied sizes.

You must move through the space to make each one out more clearly.

You cannot take them in all at once,

For as you move only inches,

The furthest structures disappear into the black.

From what you can make out,

There are pillars,

Mostly broken,

Some fallen,

But many still standing quite tall.

Algae and sea moss cling to the marble,

Gently fluttering as you disturb the waters.

You run a hand across the grooves in the stone.

It's weathered and corroded,

But you can tell it was once smooth as the marble pillars of the great palaces and temples of Atlantis.

You find,

Moving carefully through the dark chasm,

Broken pediment stones so obscured with algae,

You can't make out the relief.

With each piece of the wreckage you find,

Your mind slides answers into place like a puzzle.

The great Atlantean archaeologists will be stunned by your discovery.

Many ruins have been found on the sea floor,

The lost monuments of early Atlantis,

But you're sure that never has such an intact and impressive ruin been excavated.

You'll make a report soon,

After the ceremony.

For now you feel a frisson,

So fortunate that for just a few hours,

Or even a few moments,

This impressive and inspiring place should be your secret,

Yours alone.

Trembling with the magnitude of your discovery,

You feel your shoulder collide with something hard and slippery with moss.

The contact and the reaction are instantaneous,

As all of a sudden you must close your eyes against the unexpected onrush of light.

Behind your eyelids,

It leaves blinding gold dots in afterimage.

You summon the strength to wrench your eyes open once more,

And this time you can take it in much more easily.

All around you are dazzling specks of blue,

All blinking and bioluminescent,

Glowing both tender and bright.

They dance,

Twirl and spin in all directions.

What wonders lie in the heart of the ocean?

This twinkling show of light is a school of phosphorescent plankton.

You are sorry for sending them into a tizzy of self-defensive dazzlement,

But you are grateful for the visibility they bestow now on your exploration.

The whole sight is lit now,

Clearly and with a shining blue haze.

You revolve slowly on the spot,

Taking in the splendor of it all.

Beneath the layers of moss and algae,

Fallen and decaying but still awe-inspiring,

Are the broken foundations of a palatial structure.

Pillars,

Crowned with decorative botanicals,

Worn stone steps and crumbled archways.

It reminds you somehow of the royal palace of Atlantis.

Older of course.

And as you revolve,

Your eyes fall upon the greatest marvel of all.

How such a thing could have been obscured in darkness for so long you cannot conceive.

It shines with tenfold brilliance against the blue haze of the plankton.

It is gold and silver and white and immense.

A statue,

Tall and towering,

Unimaginably tall.

You crane your neck,

Then float upward toward its head to look it in the eyes.

The face,

Though worn,

Is clearly that of a woman,

Beautiful and terrible,

Awesome like a goddess.

She wears a golden helmet,

Still shining underneath a thin layer of slippery moss.

Her gown is rippled like the sand of the shallow ocean floor,

Delicately played upon by waves.

On her arm she bears a mighty shield,

Engraved with the scowling face of a monstrous woman whose hair extends from her head in rippling serpentine waves like eels or anemone.

The statue resembles a great Atlantean,

And she's adorned quite like the Queen is,

At triumphs and festivals.

But one thing sets her apart from all Atlanteans,

Whether Queen,

Commoner,

Or noble.

Where the statue meets its weathered platform,

She stands on two legs.

All at once your mind begins to buzz and rush with revelation.

This mighty goddess or warrior is a relic of the surface world,

Where they walk instead of swim.

Her shining golden helmet must have once caught the direct,

Unfiltered light of the sun.

What a sight that must have been.

How it must have glowed,

Blinding,

Inspiring her worshippers to kneel at her feet,

Averting their eyes from her impossible brilliance.

And now you feel a slice of that awe,

Like a holdover from some memory of another life,

Compelling you almost to genuflect.

Who is this goddess?

How did she come to be here,

Forgotten,

Languishing in the darkest caverns in the depths of the ocean?

From what ancient civilization does she hail?

Beneath her feet,

Carved into the platform,

Is some sort of writing.

It's a language you couldn't possibly interpret.

The symbols are old,

Worn,

And unintelligible.

You don't think you've seen such markings before,

But there's something achingly familiar about them.

An almost subconscious clarity,

Despite their indiscernible meaning.

It's like the feeling of trying to read text in a dream,

When you don't know you're dreaming.

The symbols may swim or flicker before you,

And though they're impossible to untangle,

You know intrinsically what they say.

You swim circles around the extraordinary statue,

Taking in the fine details of her gown,

Her gesture,

And her adornments.

Once again you shiver at the unlikely circumstance of being the only one who knows of its existence.

Whether she really is a goddess,

Or you are her sole postulant.

You've never been religious,

Per se.

In your profession,

You've cultivated a balance of objectivity and awe,

Finding exultation in the treasures of all the sea's varied spiritual traditions.

You can look at an object with a healthy distance,

Evaluating its form,

Technique,

And provenance.

But in everywhere you seek,

And usually find,

That seed of the divine.

When asked,

You claim to believe in everything and worship nothing.

But somehow,

In the presence of this statue,

Perhaps it's her sheer size or her imposing expression.

You feel as though you've uncovered something lost within yourself,

As though you've come home to something you didn't know you missed.

Now your eye catches a faint glimmer below,

Between two broken pillars,

Almost swallowed by plumes of swaying soft coral,

A metallic gleam.

You dive toward it to get a closer look.

Long and narrow,

Tarnished but remarkably well preserved,

Your eyes travel to the base of the object,

Lodged in a heavy stone that appears to be weighing it to the ocean floor.

It's a spear,

Elegantly fashioned in an unfamiliar style,

But recognizable in purpose.

This surely would be a proper gift for Allira on the day of her induction into the order of the tides.

It only needs some restoration and polishing,

Which you can do quickly in your workshop.

This is it.

The glowing blue plankton dance on,

Whirl and blink in the dark water.

Then,

One by one,

Feeling at last unthreatened by your presence,

They blink out.

Bit by bit,

The fissure and the ruined temple return to inky darkness.

Before the darkness swallows everything,

You grasp the shaft of the spear,

Hoping it's not lodged too tightly into the stone.

But to your surprise,

At your touch,

The spear slips loose,

As if it were only waiting for you to retrieve it.

You hold it tight in your hand,

Using the free arm to propel yourself upward and out of the fissure.

You steal a final glance at the face of the statue before the last of the plankton blinks out.

Small celebrations are already beginning in the sunlit streets of the kingdom within the walls.

You take the long way to your workshop in the thriving merchant's row of Atlantis.

You cut through the neighborhood you grew up in,

Where you and Allira were children.

Your old neighbors are dressed in their best finery,

Strung with rings of seashells or donning crowns of brightly colored sea flowers.

There is music playing round every corner,

From conchshell horns and tender harps,

An exuberant cacophony of song.

You can't help but smile as you swim past raucous groups,

Toasting each other's health and crying out Allira's name.

How far you and she have come since you lived among these Atlanteans,

But they are still as joyful and proud as they once were.

Some of them call your name as you pass through,

Raising a glass and a cheer to you.

You laugh and wave and carry on.

It's wonderful to see the city so alive,

With your friend's name on everyone's lips.

You are so proud of her.

You can't wait to see her honored by the Queen.

If your gift can commemorate some small fraction of the pride she must feel today,

Then it will be a success.

Your shop is closed for the occasion,

And you breeze past the elegant displays of antique jewelry,

Ancient weapons,

And inscribed tablets.

There would be no customers today.

The entire kingdom is expected to turn out for the celebration.

Your workshop is on the second floor,

And it's the exact opposite of what visitors to your shop might see.

Instead of pristine platforms,

Glass cases,

And beautifully organized merchandise,

It's strewn with objects in need of restoration,

Left out tools,

Bits,

And bobs you never got around to verifying the authenticity of.

This will be an easy job.

You'll simply polish off the layer of corrosion.

You assemble the necessary tools and solutions,

Then retrieve the spear,

Admiring it before it undergoes treatment.

As you roll it over in your hands,

Feeling the satisfying weight of it,

Your fingers fall into tiny grooves along the shaft.

You inspect closer.

And there,

So small you hadn't noticed it before,

Is a tiny assemblage of markings,

Symbols very similar to those you observed on the statue's platform.

Your shoulders fall,

But your heart flutters.

In this moment,

You know you cannot give the spear to Allira.

It's something more than a rare and exquisite treasure recovered from an ancient ruin.

It's a clue to the very foundations of Atlantis,

A piece in a puzzle that your kingdom has spent centuries trying to solve.

It may be the key to unlocking your past as a civilization,

Where you came from,

What lies above the surface of the water.

This can't be held by one person or hidden away in the collection of even the noblest of royal advisors.

It's for everyone.

You'll share your discovery and encourage a full excavation of the fissure.

Who knows what else will be discovered,

What else you'll learn about yourselves.

It's a bittersweet realization.

For now,

You must go empty-handed to Allira's triumph.

But no,

Your hands aren't empty.

You'll bring your ever-ardent admiration along with new knowledge.

You'll share it first with her so that it might,

For a moment,

Be a secret between the two of you,

Sparkling and rare,

Before you bring it into the light.

Feeling comforted and peaceful,

You make your way to the street where crowds are gathering for the commencement of the parade.

You can hear the entire kingdom erupting in cheers,

Laughter,

And excitement.

Your eyes flick upward toward the palace,

Which sits atop a hill at the highest point of the city,

Visible from all locations in Atlantis.

A network of spirals and coral and great marble pillars shining in the rays of sunlight that reach through the water to kiss its spires.

And it emits its own inner glow,

Too,

Opalescent and soft.

With a marked uproar in applause and cheers,

You know the parade has begun.

The route commences at the arch of the walled city,

Before winding through the streets of every neighborhood on the way to the palace.

It's not long before it reaches your vantage point to raucous hurrahs.

A band plays horns and drums to an old Atlantean tune.

Carriages pass by,

Drawn by hordes of seahorses and bearing important local leaders.

There are shoals of blue tang,

Their brilliant colors catching the light.

A smack of jellyfish float by,

Their tendrils swaying in the waves like ribbons.

A consortium of crabs scuttle by,

Claws raised to the sky.

An audience of squid undulate across your line of sight.

As the parade winds down the narrow streets,

You can sense its culmination.

The young prince and princess,

Flanked by their escorts,

Ride by on the backs of green sea turtles with serene expressions,

Waving to the onlookers.

It must be their first such parade,

You reflect.

Then the final carriage rounds a corner,

Drawn by silent stingrays,

Bearing the queen herself and Allira by her side.

Your chest swells with pride when you see her in the place of honor,

Smiling from ear to ear and waving out of the carriage.

A swell of cheers burst forth from the crowd,

Who cry her name and utter words of veneration to the queen.

You holler and whoop along with the rest.

As the carriage scuds by,

Allira's eyes fall upon you in the crowd,

And her smile widens even more.

Her eyes crinkling around the corners.

Then in the split second that you can hold eye contact,

She gives you a kind of expression that only you could decipher.

It means something like,

How did I manage to wind up here?

And then she rounds the next curve,

And the parade trails off,

Up toward the palace.

There's a palpable buzz of excitement from the crowd,

Who close in on the narrow street,

Moving collectively behind the parade's tail.

All of the city is swimming behind you and before you as the parade closes,

To the palace,

To the ceremony.

The energy is contagious,

But you feel a serene,

Calm wash over you,

Even amid the bustle and noise.

When you reach the palace,

It's as though the courtyard and square expand to hold all the citizens within it,

Like it's drawn in an enormous breath and ballooned outward.

You squeeze through to find an optimal sight line.

The queen is at her dais,

High above the throngs,

Resplendent in blue robes.

Above her brow is a radiant,

Traditional headdress,

Reminiscent of the helmet worn by the statue in the fissure.

She wears,

You note,

A decadent neckpiece,

Dripping with pink and black pearls,

The one you yourself procured at her attendance request last year.

You smirk with some pride at its inclusion in such a day of honor.

The queen's children flank her on either side,

And Allira attends below the dais,

Decked in her diplomatic uniform.

The queen's voice carries over the crowds,

And a hush falls over you all as she speaks.

She welcomes the crowds and gives thanks for such a marvelous parade through this beautiful city.

Then she angles her head to smile on Allira.

As the queen begins to praise Allira's career,

Her courage and nobility,

And describe the deeds which have earned her the place of honor today,

You beam with tenderness and pride.

What a privilege it's been to see your friend blossom from a timid child into the toast of the kingdom.

You feel honored to have known her all your life.

Now the queen summons Allira before her,

And in a charming move,

Whispers something to the young princess who moves forward.

The queen says the words of honor,

Proclaiming Allira a master in the order of the tides,

But the princess is the one who hangs the medal around Allira's neck.

You know Allira must love this,

And perhaps she even requested it.

Then the queen raises Allira to the dais for all to see,

And the cheering resumes.

All exalt this daughter of Atlantis.

What follows is a feast so sumptuous it can hardly be believed.

The whole of the citizenry floods in through the palace's open gates toward the great hall,

Held up on sturdy marble pillars and walls that shine with mother of pearl.

The chandelier is a bloom of undulating anemone,

Bright and pink against the white and gold furnishings.

The queen's table is vast and serpentine,

Winding its way around the hall to make a place setting for everyone.

Allira catches your eye from across the hall,

Mutters something to the queen who smiles and swims over to you.

She takes your arm and brings you back to her seat,

Gesturing to a place reserved for you,

Her dearest friend.

Together you sup on delicacies from all across the ocean.

You even have the occasion to remark to the queen that the necklace she wears is from your collection.

You whisper to Allira during a moment of distraction that if she can get away this evening,

You have something to show her.

Her eyes flash with intrigue and she nods silently.

The night comes on slowly,

The ocean growing dark around the palace and outside the narrow windows.

Orbs of phosphorescent light illuminate the table,

Casting a diaphanous glow about the revelers.

The energy wanes as all who dine here become sated and sleepy.

The queen dismisses her guests and you pour out of the palace gates once more,

Quieter now,

But still mirthful.

As the citizens of Atlantis float drowsily toward their homes,

You and Allira slip away.

The city glows at night,

A beacon of light in the dark,

Swaying sea.

It's too dark,

After all,

To take Allira to the fissure,

But you're happy for her private company after such a day.

She's happy too.

As gratifying as it is to receive mountains of praise from the royal family and the whole of the city,

She prefers the quiet.

You're a tether to reality,

She says.

While keeping her from becoming so self-satisfied,

She floats right up to the surface,

Laughing you both turn your eyes upward.

From here,

You can see the faint glow of the moon beyond the waves.

You tell her about your visit to the fissure,

The ruins of the temple,

The pillars,

The strange and yet familiar symbols,

The statue of the goddess.

The whole story spills forth from your eager lips after holding it to yourself all day.

When you finish telling her everything,

Even about the tarnished spear,

You look to her.

Her eyes are wide and restless,

Amazed.

She smiles.

I knew there was something down there,

Something marvelous,

She says.

Then playfully,

I can't believe you went without me.

You give a sheepish smile.

With more seriousness,

She asks what you think it all means,

Where it came from.

You've hardly come to any such conclusions before now,

But you feel something crystallizing as she asks the question,

Like knowledge that comes to you intrinsically in a dream.

You're still gazing upward at the shimmer of moonlight.

I think we used to live up there.

You find yourself saying,

Though you hardly recognize your own voice,

On the surface.

Together you stare,

Eyes turned upward toward the end of the ocean,

Toward that uncharted other realm where mythic figures walk instead of swim.

You softly sway with the rhythm of the water,

Pondering.

Overhead something is happening.

Near the veil of moonlight,

Trails of colorful light burst and dance across your line of sight,

Distorted by the waves.

It's hard to make out.

You feel Allira's hand grasp yours firmly.

And before you know it,

She's pulling you up,

Up toward the surface.

Hesitations flash across your mind.

Atlanteans don't go to the surface.

The air may be toxic.

You don't know what's up there.

But these thoughts quickly fade.

You feel lucky to swim in the shadow of Allira's bravery.

So up you go,

Up,

Up toward the surface.

When your heads breach the water,

An uncanny sensation comes over you.

For a moment you feel intense discomfort as your body yearns for water to breathe.

But then something kicks into place.

And through your nostrils something just as sweet as water floods in.

Clean,

Salty,

Fresh air fills you up,

Bringing vitality and peace to you.

You can breathe above the water,

A miracle,

And above.

Oh wondrous thing,

Color and light blaze against a black sky,

Riddled with tiny,

Twinkling sparks.

Plumes of light,

Like weeping anemone,

Burst and spread wide across the night.

Again and again they explode like clouds of ink,

Violet and red and white gold.

You've never seen such things before.

You've never dreamt of such things.

Eyes up to the heavens,

The sky alight.

It's darker and deeper and vaster even than the ocean,

You think.

But wonders lie in that limitless expanse,

The sky that seems littered with gems.

Your dearest friend beside you,

Now a master of the tides,

You feel a whole new world rush inward on your breath.

Your skin prickles.

The waves roll on.

Find a slow,

Easy breath in and out,

Like the waves of the ocean.

Feel your belly rise and fall like the ebb and flow of the tide.

Realize how the wave swells,

Unfolds and crashes against the shore,

Depositing shells and treasures in the sun.

And as it pulls back along the undertow,

Another wave rolls in,

Ever turning,

Natural and perpetual.

Breathe.

Feel how your in-breath nourishes all the corners of your body,

Bringing sweet oxygen along the bloodstream.

And how your out-breath removes excess tension,

Signaling to your body that it's time to relax.

Slow down,

Be still and rest.

Now the inhale brings in fresh,

Clean air,

And the exhale carries out anything that's not useful.

Feel the softness and the inevitability of the transition between inhale and exhale.

Feel that softness and relaxation travel over your body like a wave,

Moving up from the tips of your toes into your lower legs,

Upper legs,

Hips,

Belly,

Back,

Shoulders,

Arms,

Neck and head.

And rolling downward from the crown of your head,

Over the neck,

Shoulders,

Arms,

Hands,

Back,

Chest,

Belly,

Hips,

Upper legs,

Lower legs,

And to the tips of your toes.

As you breathe naturally,

Keep tuning in to the sensation of the wave,

Softening and relaxing every part of your body,

From the tips of the toes to the crown of the head,

And from the crown of the head back down to the tips of the toes.

Find inner peace,

Inner sway,

As you surrender to the flow,

Relaxing,

Softening.

It's in your nature to look for answers,

To seek out the missing pieces of the puzzle,

To want more.

Keep searching.

Keep stretching yourself.

Keep expanding.

You may discover something you didn't know you were missing.

You are a master of tides,

Of land,

And sky.

You exist in all places,

And you walk in multitudes.

Embrace your missing pieces.

Relax and breathe.

You are a master of tides,

Of land,

And sky.

You

Reviews

I love this story and how it's read. When I listen, I feel like I'm an underwater explorer in a quiet place.

Another creative story with great reading and a good night's sleep.

It started out beautifully but then I fell asleep. I guess that I is the point.. Thank you!!!!

I never know how these stories end 😴

Wow, Laurel, you have outdone yourself on this story. Was listening intently in early morning hours, captivated, mesmerized, falling into the different layers, surrounded by mythical realities. I am wide awake, yet dreamy. Thank you🙏🏻🌟✨🌟💫🌟🙏🏻

I have listened to this a dozen times, I always fall asleep before the end. Today I listened during the day so I could see how it ends. What a magical and beautiful story. Soothing voice and a perfect way to fall asleep. Thank you for your sleep series

Remarkable story, took me two times to get to the end but it was worth it. Definitely one of my favourites, thank you for your beautiful words!

Love, love your stories and voice. They work so well that I'll have to listen again. Your stories are my favorite ones.

Love these stories! Great calming voice! Interesting topics!

Great! My twelve year old son loved it as well. Soothing, Interesting, like we are really there. So many sensory descriptors!

Loved this so much. Once again, Laurel casts a magic spell with her soothing voice and dreamy sequencing. I have ended up with happy, linked-in dreams after listening, and still can't quite unravel what was Sleep & Sorcery and what was me. Perfect!

Can’t wait to keep delving into this… so appreciate you and your skill ❤️

Finally experienced all of it… i feel positively salty. You weave words into soothing magic.

It’s hard to review because I fell asleep almost immediately 😅 But I loved drifting off to the underwater dreamy adventure 💜

Helped me sleep after some sleepless hours. Calming and flowy. Helps the mind to let go. Thank you.

This was the best! Thanks Laurel.

Wonderful 👏🏽👏🏽

Thank you. That was nice. I kept drifting in and out of sleep. Now I want to listen to this again tomorrow while I'm doing chores to hear the whole story.
😃

🙏🙏🙏

Didn’t get to hear all of us as fell asleep so must be good

Lovely. Put me to sleep again. Thanks Laurel! ❤️ 😊