This guided audio recording will help to gently guide you into a deep state of relaxation from where you will have the option to drift off to sleep.
In a few moments,
You will embark on a pleasant and gentle journey of visualisation that will take place within your mind.
To begin your journey,
Find a comfortable place where you will not be disturbed and sit or lie down.
Close your eyes and take a few long deep breaths,
Allowing yourself to relax.
Now,
Just fall into a natural breathing pattern and enjoy this immersive experience.
You are standing in a quiet lane,
Sheltered by low hedgerows and trees that are bright with autumn colour and red berries.
The lane leads to your cottage,
It is long and low,
Whitewashed with sturdy stone walls.
A drift of smoke from the chimney rises,
And it is shredded by the wind.
From here,
You cannot see the view that the cottage offers,
But as you reach the side garden and door,
It opens out.
The old,
Maturely planted garden slopes slightly down to the fields that overlook the ocean.
There are no high cliffs,
The land tumbles gently down into a little stream that flows through your garden,
Dances down to the bay and flows out into the sea.
In the summer,
Or early autumn,
Sometimes you will have a small bonfire on the beach and watch the sparks rise into the dark air.
But today,
A storm is coming,
Not a dangerous one,
But it will be wild.
The sea is the colour of slate,
Tipped with white with the strengthening wind.
The old trees bend their branches,
Leaves tumbling.
A few seagulls,
White as paint flecks against the grey sky,
Wing their way inland.
The old cottage has weathered many of these storms for over two hundred years,
And there is nothing to worry about.
You open the door,
And let yourself in to the quiet and peaceful warmth that envelops you like a soft blanket.
Going from room to room,
You pause in the living room,
With its windows looking,
And you watch the sky,
The ocean,
The slow deepening of the dusk.
There is hot soup in the slow cooker,
And you eat in the kitchen,
The big AGA cooker throwing out warmth.
The lamp in the corner shines off copper pans,
And a spray of coloured berries and beech leaves in a vase,
Making them look as rich as a still life painting.
When you are finished,
You go around to be sure all the windows are closed.
Upstairs,
You hear the rattle of a small window you left open this morning,
And secure it.
You look out at the darkening world beyond for a moment,
The glass of the window pane cool under your hand.
On the outside,
Dots of misty rain gather,
Bedroom smells of fresh laundry,
And the faint scent of dried herbs and flowers from the summer.
The pillows are plumped up ready for you to go to bed,
All the colours here are comforting,
Inviting you to rest.
Outside,
The wind has risen,
You can hear the moan of the wind in the chimney stacks.
Downstairs in your cosy study,
The fire winks and flickers behind its guard.
Going out of the side door again,
You hear the crash and boom of the sea,
A deeper sound than the wind in the trees.
It is not as dark as it seemed inside,
The evening falls gently as wood smoke,
And it is never black dark here.
The clarity of the air and the sea seem to lend the night a kind of luminosity even in stormy weather.
The gale shreds the clouds and you see,
For a moment,
The sparkle of one brilliant star,
And a little above you on the hillside,
You see the lights of your neighbours cottage glowing softly.
You had just come back from visiting them,
And they too were preparing for a cosy evening in.
You shut your door on the wind and go through the cottage,
Pulling the plines and curtain shut.
Each room is now a soft sanctuary of lamp and candlelight enfolding you.
For a while,
You potter around the kitchen,
You make yourself a drink and take it into the lounge,
Relaxing on the sofa.
Here too,
The fire burns merrily.
In the autumn,
The local farmer pruned his apple orchard and gave you some of the wood.
Apple wood always smells sweet.
For a while,
You just watch the fire,
The shape of it always changing,
Deep red embers like the mouth of a dragon's den,
Firefly sparks that chase one another up the chimney.
The wind moans outside,
You imagine it chasing over the hill and the village,
Making the trees in the deep wooded valley sway and bend.
In the morning,
The last leaves will have fallen,
Heaped into bright drifts along the lane,
The sky will be as if washed clean,
A high pale blue.
You yawn,
The crackle of the fire and the plangent sound of the wind are soothing,
Making you think of bed.
Making sure all the lights are off,
You go up to your room,
In a few minutes you stretch out in bed,
The window shows as a square of grey in the dimness.
Once again you yawn as your limbs become heavy,
You breathe in the clean laundry scent and close your eyes.
The storm covers the night,
And the wind blows,
The sea out there will be black and streaked by white foam,
The waves pounding on the sand and withdrawing.
You can hear it,
But as if it is muffled by the sleep which is drawing you down.
It is so cosy,
So warm and safe in this lovely cottage,
You listen to the wind and begin to drift slowly to sleep.
