Hello and welcome.
This guided audio recording.
Created to gently guide you into a deep state of relaxation.
From where you'll have the option to drift off to sleep.
In a few moments,
You will embark on a pleasant and gentle journey of visualization.
That will take place within your mind.
Like all of our guided audio recordings,
This story is narrated by a real person and not AI.
My name is Rick and I will be your guiding voice throughout this recording.
Tonight's sleep story unfolds around a mystical steam train called the Dreamweaver.
And is one of many stories you can find in our Dreamweaver series.
As you settle into stillness now.
Allow your breathing to soften.
Slow and easy.
There's nowhere you need to go.
Nothing you need to do.
There is just this moment.
And the peaceful journey ahead.
You step out of your cottage door.
And pause for a moment.
Taking a deep breath of the clean air.
You always do this when you first come out of your cottage.
The air tells you what kind of a day it would be.
Rain or snow or sun.
And this one will be a gentle day of benign warmth.
Spring has come to the haven in all its glory.
Of waking flowers.
And unfurling leaves.
The meadows are lush and green.
And you pause for a moment to watch the horses in the field cropping the grass.
Last week when meeting the old lady.
She invited you on a little trip.
And today is perfect for it.
Although she did not tell you where you were going.
You walk down the quiet lane to her cottage.
And find her coming out of her gate with a welcoming smile.
The two of you carry on down the lane,
Talking quietly.
After a while,
You come to the turning that leads past the old manor and beyond.
Winding through the meadows.
You have been this way a few times,
To the deep woods where you received the star flower.
And nearer,
Somewhere hidden by trees,
Must lie the artisan's workshop.
But today,
The old lady leads you to the little station.
And you see the dreamweaver as if it has come out of its winter rest.
Its carriages gleam gently.
As if they've been polished by moonlight and memories.
This train only travels to places of rest.
Places of healing.
Today,
It pulls only two carriages.
You are helped into the first carriage and sit down in comfortable chairs.
Then hear the distinctive hiss and clank.
As the train begins its smooth departure.
The old lady smiles.
And tells you that today you won't go far.
And waves her hand in the direction of the moors.
Both of you make your choice of a mid-morning drink.
And sit back.
Looking from the windows.
You recall crossing train tracks when you made your way to the hidden lake.
You glimpse the meadows and scattered woods behind your own home and see the horses grazing.
Then you settle back to enjoy this short trip.
You see the long,
Dark line of the fairy wood.
Stretching far into the distance.
Andrew Mark.
That the haven seems far bigger than you thought.
Like a folded up map.
The old lady gives a chuckle and nods.
You pass through the rich meadows and scattered little woods.
And then the railway track begins to rise toward the moors.
A small stream jumps and dances down a rocky water course.
And sheep are grazing.
The dreamweaver passes through a wood.
Where the sunlight filters in warm splashes and a path runs parallel to the train tracks.
You wonder if your journeys might take you along that path one day.
The dreamweaver emerges from the woods.
And passes over a little viaduct.
Below,
You see another track going who knows where.
The sky opens above as you reach the sweeping moors and ahead you see a tiny railway station.
Like something out of an old-fashioned book.
The train weaver begins to slow.
And gently pulls in.
Old-fashioned and small the station may be.
But here,
As everywhere you have travelled on this train.
It feels as if the journey has been designed just for you and to make things as comfortable as possible.
You are helped down onto the station.
And you look around.
Beyond the moors,
You see a higher swell of smooth green hills and woods girdled by the cloud-flecked sky.
A planned bird's rise into the brightness.
Singing sweet and clear.
One of the staff comes forward with a smile.
And guide you politely through the station.
You see a small cafe with a bright awning and an outside dining area.
Sunny and warm,
With parasols for shade on hot days.
You and the old lady sit down and a woman comes smiling from the cafe with menus.
The view from this quiet little spot is amazing.
You can look down and see the haven.
As if it is a painting.
The main street of the village.
The small harbour.
The sea beyond.
With boats looking as tiny as toys.
And the enclosing arms of the bay.
To the left.
Is the spread of the fairy wood.
The old lady smiles and agrees,
It is a splendid view.
You point out different places.
Your home.
Her cottage.
The manner.
The small wood you often walk through.
Then you choose from the menu.
And sit back.
Enjoying the air and the quiet.
You absorb the calm of the moors around you.
And the open sky above.
When your lunch arrives,
It is freshly cooked and delicious.
The travel and the fresh air has given you an appetite.
And you enjoy the food.
Then you sit in peace.
Looking at the view.
There is a paved path that leads from your seating area.
And after a while.
.
.
You and the old lady explore it for a little while.
A stream bursts out of a rocky outcrop.
Splashing down and under the path.
Above the outflow.
The stone has been carved into the shape of a stag's head.
With great branching amplers.
It is a beautiful and lifelike carving.
But you think it is clearly ancient.
Time Worn.
Smoothed by who knows how many centuries of wind and rain.
The old lady cups her hands and drinks.
And you follow her example.
The water is as fresh as the air.
She tells you that this is the source of the stream.
That runs through your garden and through the small wood.
Slowly.
Stopping to admire the view.
You walk back toward the train.
Before you board.
You look up at the track that glints in the sun.
And wonder out loud.
How far it goes up into the hills.
The old lady says that one day soon you can make that journey and come back overnight knowing how comfortable the beds are in the train.
You say that you look forward to it.
But now?
The Dreamweaver will take you home.
You settle into your seat and relax into the rhythm of the train.
It is steady and soothing.
Like a lullaby for your thoughts.
You realize you must have stayed at that little cafe for some time.
As the evening shadows are now beginning to spread.
Over the quiet land.
You look out of the window as the train takes a different route home.
A loop around the edge of the moors.
From your window.
You see the waters of the bay gleaming.
The soft shadows deepening across the meadows and woods.
The Dreamweaver begins to slow.
And gently pulls in.
At the station.
You thank the driver and station master.
Who say you are quite welcome.
And they hope to see you again soon.
Satisfied by the day.
You walk gently towards your home.
The old lady at your side.
At the old manor,
You pause to wave to the old gentleman.
Who is in his garden.
And then you make your way up the peaceful lane.
Far beyond.
The moors a darkening in the dusk.
At the old lady's garden gate.
Part ways.
Agreeing to meet tomorrow in the shop's cafe.
Then you walk on to your own home.
In the quiet,
You can hear the stream.
And think of its source there upon the moors.
You look down the lane.
And think you see a flash of white.
The Great Stack.
Whose image was carved on the stone.
You lift a hand in greeting.
Without haste.
You make your way to bed.
And sink into its comfort.
You close your eyes.
And stretch.
And then let all your limbs soften.
Sleep comes upon you softly.
You think of the moors.
And the hills beyond.
The view of the haven from the little cafe.
The taste of clear water.
And the Dreamweaver.
As it carried you.
The rhythmic sound of its wheels on the tracks.
Slowly you drift into peace.
Into sleep.
Sleep.
Sleep.
We'll see.
