Tree Of Retreat: An Enchanted Sleep Story

Let the world melt away as you follow a secret path into the woods, where an ancient tree reveals a glowing treehouse sanctuary just for you. Wrapped in your cozy new blanket, you climb into the treetop haven and drift into enchanted rest.

Wind in trees ASMR by SoundsForYou

Transcript

Let the world melt away as you follow a secret path into the woods where an ancient tree reveals a glowing treehouse sanctuary just for you.

Wrapped in your cozy new blanket,

You climb into the treetop haven and drift into enchanted rest.

The Haven Shop is a fantasy bedtime story series that will reconnect you with your inner magic as you dwell in the sacred space between waking and sleep.

My name is Andrea,

And I am deeply honored to be part of your sacred bedtime ritual.

Good evening and welcome back.

You've arrived at just the right moment.

It's time to let the day fall away,

To release the expectations and soften into stillness.

Here,

In this gentle space,

Your only task is to receive.

You give so much of yourself to the world.

Now,

Allow yourself to refill your own cup.

You deserve rest that nourishes your spirit and reminds you of who you are beneath the busyness.

From here on,

The only thing you need to do is relax and enjoy tonight's story.

The day has left its mark on you in the form of tight shoulders and a weary mind.

You've been moving at a pace no one can sustain,

And pouring from your cup without stopping to refill.

But that's all about to change,

Because your heart has lovingly guided you back to the Haven Shop,

Which is positively bustling today.

It seems you've arrived during the Wandering Wares Market,

A seasonal pop-up the Sister Witches host for artisans who don't have shops of their own.

It's just the kind of thing they're always doing to support the community,

And one of the many reasons they're so deeply loved by the townsfolk.

The shelves and quiet corners you know so well have been rearranged to make space for the hand-crafted treasures from local crafters.

Rows of beeswax candles tied with twine and pressed herbs sit beside hand-thrown pottery mugs in soft earth tones.

There are small batch preserves in glass jars labeled Fig and Honey,

Lavender Peach,

And Spiced Pear.

Woolen slippers in soft white spill from woven baskets,

And someone has brought in a stack of hand-bound journals,

Each one stitched with natural thread and wrapped in textured linen.

The air buzzes with the murmur of neighbors catching up,

The rustle of tissue paper as treasures are gift-wrapped,

And the soft clink of mugs at the Kombucha Station.

Even a small trio of musicians has set up in the corner,

Their mellow fiddle and dulcimer tunes weaving through the air like warm smoke.

You didn't expect such a lively scene.

In fact,

You actually came in the hopes of a quiet escape.

But now that you're here,

You decide it wouldn't hurt to take a look around.

Maybe there's something here to help you settle in later tonight.

Something soft and comforting.

You meander down a display of woven lap blankets,

Letting your fingers trail over the textures.

Cotton,

Wool,

Flannel,

All stitched with love.

You imagine wrapping yourself in one of these later,

As the evening air grows cooler.

A friendly artisan behind the table greets you with a smile,

Her hands dusted with yarn as she folds another blanket with practiced ease.

That's one of my favorites,

She says,

Nodding to the fluffy throw you've been running your hands over.

It's perfect for cozying up by the fire or curling up with a good book.

Hand-dyed with natural indigo,

So no two are exactly alike.

Convinced,

You smile and make your purchase.

Just then,

A soft,

Familiar voice calls your name.

You turn to find Jadis and Aurora standing a few steps away.

There you are,

Jadis says,

Her smile warm as ever.

She steps closer,

Eyes sparkling with unknowing light.

Perfect choice,

She adds,

Assessing the snuggly blanket in your hands.

Her sister Aurora steps forward and focuses her gaze on you.

You've been running on empty,

Haven't you?

You know she's reading your aura,

A talent that comes in quite handy in her healing work.

You nod,

Feeling the weight of the truth settle in.

There's been no time to rest,

To pause and breathe.

Jadis places a gentle hand on your arm,

Her warmth offering more comfort than any blanket could.

Come with us,

She says softly.

We've got just the thing.

The sister witches guide you through the maze of artisan tables,

Offering warm nods and friendly greetings as they weave between displays.

You stay close,

Catching glimpses of handmade soaps,

Knitted scarves and twinkling strands of fairy lights as you pass.

They lead you behind the polished wooden counter,

Where the old brass register sits like a relic from another era.

It feels special being welcomed into the space usually reserved for the proprietors.

Aurora crouches to open a low cabinet door.

From within,

She retrieves a rolled up scroll,

Tied neatly with a piece of faded velvet ribbon.

Jadis clears a spot on the counter,

Moving aside a small vase of dried lavender and a tin of loose tea.

Together,

They unroll the parchment with care.

It's a map,

Clearly hand-drawn and quite old,

The thick paper softly creased from use.

Inked in fine looping script and gentle watercolors,

It reveals the full grounds of the Haven Shop in elegant detail.

Garden paths curl like ribbons,

Winding past labeled trees,

Archways and cozy nooks.

A tiny compass,

Shaped like a rose in bloom,

Sits in the corner.

Its delicate petals pointing gently north.

As Jadis turns the map toward you,

The rose adjusts itself with a soft click,

Its petals realigning to match the new orientation.

The clever enchantment makes you giggle.

Off to one side of the map is a legend,

A key to the map's many symbols.

You spot a few intriguing ones.

An open eye,

A lantern,

Something that looks like a keyhole.

But one symbol catches your eye right away,

A simple tree.

There are several trees on the property,

Aurora says,

Each one with its own special healing gifts.

The sister witches begin scanning the paths,

Inked through the wooden acreage behind the shop.

You recognize the listening tree from a past visit,

A quiet spot where thoughts seem to sort themselves in the hush of its golden canopy.

There's the grounding tree,

Jadis murmurs,

Gesturing to a thicket nestled beside a spiral path.

And here,

The wishing willow,

Aurora adds,

Nodding toward a quiet glen just beyond a winding stream.

As they study the map,

Warm smiles play on their faces,

And you can feel the unspoken nostalgia between them.

Fond memories stirred by these sacred spots.

Then,

With a spark of recognition,

Jadis taps the parchment.

There,

She says,

The tree of retreat.

It's just what you need to feel like yourself again,

She says,

Passing you the map.

Follow the path and make yourself at home there for as long as you need.

Heart warmed and ever so curious,

You thank the sister witches and step outside,

Tucking your new blanket under your arm,

So you have both hands free.

To hold the map.

The door gives its soft chime as it closes behind you,

Muffling the cheerful sounds of the pop-up market within.

The garden path unfolds before you,

Just as it appears on the parchment,

Curling like ribbon between tidy beds of herbs and late-blooming flowers.

The air is rich with the scent of rosemary and lemon balm,

Stirred by a breeze that carries the faintest trace of wood smoke and apples.

You pause beside a wrought-iron archway draped in ivy,

Lifting the map to get your bearings.

The little compass rose still points true,

Its petals shifted ever so slightly to guide your way.

You follow its direction through a stretch of hedgerow,

Where wind chimes whisper gently from hidden branches,

And the crunch of your steps mingles with the birdsong overhead.

As you move farther from the shop,

The path narrows and softens beneath your feet,

Giving way to moss and fallen leaves.

The bustle behind you fades into a comfortable hush,

Like a storybook slowly turning its own pages.

The air is quiet,

Except for the occasional trill of birdsong,

Or the rustle of branches above.

You hug your blanket a little closer,

The map held securely in your other hand,

Guiding you deeper into the trees.

Just ahead,

A wooden sign appears where the path forks.

It's weathered,

Hand-carved,

And hung slightly askew.

It reads,

This way to somewhere special.

You pause for a moment,

Your heart quietly blooming with anticipation.

Then,

You turn in the direction it points,

The path narrowing even further as you step into the embrace of the trees.

The hush of the forest wraps around you like a soft shawl.

The map feels warm in your hands,

As if guiding you,

Not just by direction,

But by intuition.

Just as you begin to wonder if you've gone too far,

You spot something through the branches,

Only a glimpse at first,

As if the woods are gently parting to reveal it.

A great tree rises before you,

Grand and ancient,

Its massive trunk nestled in a hidden glade,

Where sunlight spills like honey through the leaves.

Its canopy stretches wide,

Cradling a treehouse so seamlessly woven into its branches that you might have missed it if you hadn't been truly looking.

Lanterns glow softly from inside,

Casting golden patterns through the slats of carved wood and etched glass.

The air is thick with the scent of cedar and wildflowers,

And a sense of stillness and wonder saddles over you.

There's no ladder in sight,

No steps,

Just a hush in the clearing,

As if the tree is waiting to be approached.

And then,

As your feet carry you closer,

The tree bark shifts with a low,

Melodic hum.

From the base of the trunk,

A winding ladder unfurls slowly,

Step by step,

Revealing itself when you're near.

It's carved with ancient symbols and polished smooth by time,

Glowing faintly beneath the leafy boughs like moonlight on water.

You get a clear sense that this is a place where no one will reach you before you're ready,

A place that holds space for you until you allow yourself to be found.

Cradling your blanket,

You lift your gaze to the glowing sanctuary above and take your first step forward.

Your hands graze the edges of the unfolding ladder as you begin your ascent.

The carved wood is smooth and warm under your fingertips.

Each step is gentle but sturdy,

Winding slowly upward through a nest of branches that cradle and conceal the path.

Leaves rustle softly around you,

Dappling your skin with golden light as you climb.

At the top,

A small landing appears,

Framed by an arched wooden door,

Built seamlessly into the trunk.

Its surface is etched with faint symbols.

Leaves,

Stars,

Moons,

All worn soft with time.

You reach for the crescent-shaped door handle and pull gently.

The door opens with a quiet creak,

Releasing a breath of warm,

Fragrant air that smells faintly of pine needles.

You step inside and close the door gently behind you,

The latch clicking softly into place.

A moment later,

A low creaking begins beneath the floorboards,

Wooden,

Natural,

Almost like a yawn.

The ladder outside begins to shift and rise,

Drawn upward by the tree itself.

You can hear the rustle of leaves and the slow groan of living wood as the rungs disappear into the trunk.

Each step folding away until there's no sign it was ever there at all.

The sound fades,

And with it,

The last trace of the outside world.

You're tucked away safely,

Into your hideaway now,

Cradled in the arms of something quiet.

Loving and wise.

Inside,

The space glows with soft amber light emanating from orbs nestled into the beams and branches like gentle forest fireflies.

The air is warm from the natural heat radiating through the walls.

An ancient warmth,

Like the tree itself,

Is keeping you safe.

The room is small but spacious,

With high,

Arching ceilings formed by the curve of living wood.

Everything inside is simple and beautiful,

Designed for cozy comfort and convenience.

It has Jadus' signature style written all over it.

At the center is a low,

Plush bed nestled into an alcove,

Layered with velvet throws and hand-stitched quilts.

Your eyes widen as you realize the colors and patterns mirror the blanket tucked under your arm.

A perfect match that completes the set.

A wave of appreciation passes over you for this enchanting wink from the universe.

Nearby,

A small washbasin rests beneath a smooth hollow,

Where water trickles gently down from within the tree,

Pooling and disappearing again.

An elegant,

Self-sustaining rhythm of magic and nature.

There are wooden shelves lined with tea jars,

Honey sticks,

And herbal sachets,

Along with a thick robe,

Soft towels,

And a small chest of simple comforts.

Candles,

Palm tins,

And a hand-bound notebook.

The whole space radiates peaceful,

Welcoming energy.

It holds everything you need for an unexpected evening.

Of rest and retreat.

You set your blanket down on the bed and breathe in deeply.

Everything about this place seems designed to help your shoulders drop and your mind quiet.

A warmth spreads through you,

Not just from the tree's gentle embrace,

But from the hush that settles inside you,

As though even your thoughts have curled up for a rest.

You eagerly begin to explore this magical space.

The narrow shelf near the windows holds small jars of loose herbs,

Each labeled in looping script.

One reads,

Rest and Renewal,

And seems to glow ever so faintly around the edges.

You lift it gently,

Drawn to its soft scent of chamomile,

Lemon balm,

And something more mysterious.

A tiny kettle rests on a low shelf nearby,

Already warmed to the perfect temperature.

You prepare your tea with care and mindfulness.

Allowing your thoughts to drift now would feel like turning away from a gift.

As the tea steeps,

You slip out of your shoes and into the robe waiting for you near the bed.

It's thick and weighty in the most comforting way,

The fabric buttery soft against your skin.

At the washstand,

You lean over the enchanted basin,

Where water flows clear and cool as a forest spring.

It carries the subtle scent of herbs and moonlight,

Leaving your face tingling and refreshed.

You dry your hands and cheeks with a towel so plush it feels like a cloud.

It gently sweeps away the very last remnants.

Of the day.

Wrapped in warmth,

Tea in hand,

You climb onto the bed and nestle into its plush layers.

The scent of chamomile rises from the pillows,

Soothing your senses.

You take a long sip of tea.

With eyes closed,

You exhale,

Feeling every bit of yourself begin to let go.

When you open them again,

Something catches your gaze overhead.

The ceiling,

If you can call it that,

Seems to shift as the night falls.

Becoming translucent,

Like a veil pulled back just for you.

Above,

The canopy branches part slightly,

Revealing a vast canopy of stars,

Glittering between rustling leaves.

It's like gazing into the heart of the cosmos,

From the safest corner of the world.

The stars twinkle with a kind of rhythm,

As if they are breathing in time with you.

You feel as though the entire universe has wrapped itself.

Around this moment,

Cradling you in peace,

Wonder,

And absolute delight.

The warmth of the tea begins to settle into your limbs,

Coaxing you deeper into tranquility with every breath.

You recognize its calming effects as one of Aurora's trademark enchantments.

Subtle,

Soothing,

And perfectly attuned to your needs.

Each sip of the brew works its healing magic,

Loosening the final threads of tension.

And inviting every part of you to soften.

Your shoulders release their hold.

Your jaw relaxes.

Even your thoughts begin to drift like clouds across a twilight sky.

You ease back the covers and slip beneath them.

The sheets cool and silky against your skin.

Then,

You reach for the blanket you purchased earlier,

Still faintly scented with cedar and lavender from the shop.

You pull it over you.

It feels soft,

Warm,

And beautifully familiar.

The weight of the bedding settles over you like a gentle embrace.

You snuggle into the plush pillows,

Every part of your body cradled in comfort.

Above you,

The ceiling slowly shifts as the branches draw back,

Revealing the open sky.

Stars shimmer against the vast canvas of night,

So vivid and close,

It feels as if you could breathe them in.

The constellations gleam like ancient friends,

Peaceful and patient,

Keeping watch as you rest.

Cradled high in the arms of the tree of retreat,

You're wrapped in quiet serenity,

Held gently by the living sanctuary around you.

You are warm,

Secure,

And so deeply at ease.

A quiet wave of gratitude rises,

For the Sister Witches,

For their enchantments,

And for the way your own intuition gently led you here.

You breathe in and slowly out,

Every part of you surrendering into peace.

The world softens at the edges,

And your thoughts float away.

Like petals on rippling water.

Sleep finds you gently,

Wrapped in stillness and stars,

As the tree of retreat lovingly watches over you.

Good night.

Reviews

Thank you so much, my dear witches🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻You are back! What a treat… Have listened over and over again, night after night. In these very early morning hours, I just wanted to hear it all. Even then, I had to press the button 3 more times.
LOVE this!The tale is as soothing and comforting as the blanket that has been described.
And wouldn’t it be nice to have a Haven Shoppe in my neighborhood, presenting me with offerings even before I realize I needed them?
The tale reminds me of one of my dreams to have the experience of spending a night in a tree house.
And surprise: so much fun to read the comment of one of my best friends. ALL good🙏🏻🌟🩵😇💙😴🪽🦋🌀💗🌟🙏🏻

Always love listening to your stories and this one is absolutely cozy, comforting, and calming! Thank you so much for sharing with us :)

The beginning was wonderful as always! Andrea’s soothing voice got me to sleep before the middle of story!