The Magical Lighthouse Library: Bedtime Tale

So just take a moment to allow your eyes to close and allow yourself to begin to relax and as you begin to comfortably fall asleep.

I don't know whether you'll drift asleep faster to the sound of my voice or whether it'll be to the spaces between my words.

And while you comfortably drift asleep I'm just going to tell this bedtime story in the background.

And you find yourself walking through the most peaceful woodland,

The gentle sound of leaves crunching underfoot,

The gentle rustling of the branches overhead,

As the wind blows such a delicate breeze.

And sunbeams dance before you as that Sun weaves its way through the canopy illuminating the path before you.

And you can feel the softest breeze against your cheeks,

Hearing the sound of the occasional scampering squirrel scrambling around a trunk of a tree,

Smelling the fresh woodland air,

The slightly echoing distant sounds of woodland birdsong,

And a deep sense of inner peace and calm spreading through your mind and body,

With each step you take continuing along that woodland path.

And as you walk along this woodland path,

Passing through those dancing beams of light,

You have this feeling of time standing still,

Of being lost and absorbed in the moment.

And while you continue walking through this clear and calm woodland,

So you see among the trees in the distance,

The outline of a graceful deer,

Feeding on some food from the woodland floor,

That deer freezing momentarily when it notices you,

As you stop to watch its brown soft fur,

Occasionally moving with each breath,

Small puffs of mist as it breathes out,

Its gentle eye gazing over at you,

As you remain still observing,

And you hear the calming hoot of an owl in the distance among the trees,

And as the deer feels comfortable with your presence,

It continues to eat,

And you continue to walk,

The undergrowth softly crunching and cracking beneath your feet,

The sounds of songbirds continuing to echo through this woodland,

And as you walk deeper and deeper into the woods,

So you start noticing,

The carpet of bluebells in this part of this woodland,

Noticing how delicate each of those tiny flowers is,

The weight of the flower head pulling down and drooping over the flowers,

And you spy on a branch in a tree,

That owl you heard earlier,

A mottled brown,

Resting on a branch nestled among the trees,

So well camouflaged,

And you watch that owl as you walk past,

Noticing the owl watching you back,

Its head gently turning,

Keeping its eyes on you as you walk,

Starting to perhaps hear the distant sound of a stream passing through this woodland,

And continuing along this path in the direction of that stream,

Feeling so relaxed,

In the comfort of this environment,

Feeling a deep and personal connection with the nature around you,

And as you continue to walk through the woodland,

So the sound of that stream gradually intensifies,

And you start to have this thought like you're beginning to notice the slightest scent of the fresh water,

Wafting gently to your nostrils,

And you continue walking through this woodland,

Getting closer and closer to that stream,

Until you find your way to the stream bubbling its way through this woodland,

Wrapped in the trees,

Weaving through the undergrowth,

Around the larger trees,

And you walk along the edge of the stream,

Seeing the way the water ripples and dances and weaves around,

Stones in the stream,

The way there's slightly more tufts of grass growing along the edge of the stream,

The occasional leaf spinning and floating down the stream,

Like a boat travelling on the ocean,

Going with the flow,

Watching as the leaf weaves and bounces,

Over the waves in the stream,

Swings around the eddies,

Navigates the undulations,

And your mind almost imagines what it would be like to be piloting that leaf,

To be travelling along this stream,

Perhaps having a stick that works like an oar,

To help you to keep control of the boat,

While it rises and lowers over the undulating water,

Gets carried around rocks,

Swings around obstacles,

Navigates the eddies,

Drops down the gentle waterfalls,

And finds its way to a calm and distant lake,

And you continue to follow this stream,

Enjoying this countryside walk through this woodland,

And while walking through the woodland,

So the sun is gently passing across the sky,

The dancing beams of light,

That are penetrating the canopy overhead,

Are gradually angling steeper and steeper,

As the sun is moving lower and lower,

And the atmosphere is gradually changing,

To shades of oranges,

Almost like there's a golden light,

Infused through the woodland,

And while the light begins to fade,

So you start to think you'll have to stop at some point soon,

To rest for the night,

And you continue on for a little longer,

Curious whether you'll find a slight clearing anywhere,

Along the path of this stream,

And after another hour or two of walking,

The space around the stream opens out just a little bit,

And you notice a tree has fallen down in this area,

And that that tree is lying on its side,

Stretched across the ground,

Across the stream,

At the foot of the tree,

There's a large hollow,

Where the roots once were,

Revealing the exposed chalk under the ground here,

Mixed with some dirt,

And you decide this is a good place to set up camp,

And you set up a tent,

Resting against the trunk of the tree,

You clear the space in front of the tent,

You dig a slight pit,

You gather up some wood from around this area,

You fashion yourself a fire in that pit,

And you light that fire,

Just as the sun is setting,

Leading to the most comfortable flickering orange glow,

And gentle warmth on your cheeks,

With the backdrop of the sound,

Of that flowing water,

Bubbling past,

And you rest down in the entrance to your tent,

You cook yourself some food on the fire,

And while cooking you notice,

Where the sounds around you are shifting,

From the sounds of daytime,

To the sounds of the night,

From the sounds of songbirds,

To the sounds of crickets and night time animals,

And noticing how the air is cooling,

While your cheeks remain warm from the fire,

And the scent of your food,

Wafts to your nose,

As the food nears being ready to eat,

And you feel gently relaxed,

So calm,

You enjoy sitting back,

Eating that food as the fire continues to burn down,

Gently,

And after eating the food,

You rest back in the tent,

You light a light in the tent,

And you read by that light,

Absorbing yourself in a good book,

Listening to the crackling,

Popping,

Dancing light of the fire,

The sound of the stream,

Gurgling past,

The distant sounds of crunching,

And movement in the woodland,

As the night time animals go about their business,

Continuing to feel more relaxed,

Deeper and deeper,

With increased comfort at being here in nature,

Enjoying the peace and tranquility that nature brings,

Catching a glimpse of the stars,

Through the slight clearing overhead,

Noticing low behind the trees,

The softest silvery glow of the moon,

Carefully climbing its way into the sky,

And continuing to read in the tent,

The sides of the tent,

Being gently buffeted by the breeze,

Waving softly around you,

The rhythms of the night,

Bringing a deep sense of peace and calm,

That encourages you to want to close the book and fall asleep,

And you find as you read at night,

Each time the eyes work their way down the page,

It's as if it's a signal for the eyelids to get heavier,

And heavier,

And each time you read down the page,

You get more and more tired,

The eyes just wanting to close,

To allow you to drift deeply and peacefully inside your mind,

And as you continue to read and the eyes get heavier,

And you find the eyelids are knocking at the doors of sleep,

Eventually,

They close without you noticing,

And you don't know how long the eyelids are closed for,

Before you discover that they're closed,

And you softly open your eyes,

And continue reading,

But each time you reach the end of a page,

You discover the eyelids have closed again,

And your hands almost automatically,

Without any conscious thought,

Fold the book closed onto a finger,

With that book resting on your lap,

Resting on your fingers in your hand,

With one finger tucked carefully within the book,

Marking the page,

And you find yourself doing this without thought,

Finding yourself absorbed in the experience,

Of drifting and floating so peacefully,

So calmly asleep,

The head beginning to rest back,

The fire now just embers outside,

Still crackling ever so slightly,

But now nothing more than a patch of warmth,

On the ground beyond the tent,

As your mind begins to drift,

On the sands of time,

Into the story you were just reading,

As if drifting asleep,

Midway through the story,

Stimulates your mind to want to complete,

The incomplete pattern,

Of where you're at,

And your breathing begins to slow,

All by itself so calmly and deeply,

Your mind begins to slow easily and effortlessly,

Your thoughts slowing,

As if slowing down to arrive at a place,

Deep within you,

And you relax deeper and deeper,

And begin to drift,

Comfortably into a reverie,

As the head rests back there,

Finding comfort on what it's resting on,

Letting the muscles around the head and the neck,

Soften and relax and let go,

Easily and effortlessly,

And almost like it happens on an out breath,

That relaxation moves comfortably,

Down the arms,

Shoulders,

Around the neck,

Around the top of the shoulders and down into the chest,

Almost like the most comfortable massage,

Softening those muscles,

Relaxing you deeper,

And deeper,

Bringing relaxation,

Down through your body,

Down through your arms to the tips of your fingers,

Down from your upper back to your lower back,

Around your sides,

Down to your stomach,

Like a wave of peaceful,

Deep relaxation,

Moving at the speed of breath,

Really taking time,

To soften and deepen the experience,

As you fall asleep in that tent,

Spreading the relaxation down,

Through your body,

To your bottom and down your legs,

With the process happening automatically,

And being no effort for you at all,

No thought required,

Just happening easily,

Effortlessly,

All by itself,

With your mind,

Just about registering,

The gentle movement,

The sides of the tent in the breeze,

The bubbling sound of the stream,

Carefully weaving its way,

Out of consciousness and into the distance,

Letting go deeper,

And deeper into the experience,

And no effort at all,

Is put in to relaxing deeply,

And drifting peacefully asleep,

It's like thoughts begin to still,

It's like the thoughts themselves,

Settle down for the night,

Go to bed and drift asleep,

Leaving the mind free,

To wander and drift and dream,

Into the most pleasant reverie,

Most like a comfortable,

Tingling sense of peace and calm,

Like a thousand tiny bells,

Permeates your mind and body,

From the top of your head,

Down to the tips of your toes,

Softening and relaxing,

With each breath,

Seeming to almost,

Move the external world,

Further into the distance,

Like sinking comfortably,

Into a pillow of pleasure,

So deeply calming and relaxing,

And imagining yourself in your mind's eye,

As a reverie begins to form,

Finding yourself as a childlike wonder,

Walking through the most beautiful meadow,

Atop a cliff,

Towards a rustic old lighthouse,

And with each step you take through this meadow,

So you move further and further away,

From your awareness of external reality,

Drifting deeper and deeper,

Into your own personal inner reality,

Into the wonder of this experience,

Noticing the sights,

The sounds,

The smells,

Of this most beautiful,

Most perfect meadow,

As you walk towards that lighthouse,

And you see the way the beam of light from the lighthouse,

Is slowly and rhythmically,

Scanning the night's environment,

With the moonlight here,

Casting a bluey silvery glow,

Across the meadow,

Across the landscape,

Hearing the distant sound of the ocean,

And the gentle sound of waves,

Crashing at the foot of the cliffs,

And you continue to walk,

Through the meadow towards the lighthouse,

The long grasses of the meadow,

Gently tickling the sides of your legs,

Brushing past,

With the softest sweeping sound,

Bringing a deep sense of peace and calm,

And you can see a couple of lights within the lighthouse,

As if somebody's home,

And you arrive at the lighthouse,

You walk around that lighthouse,

Running your fingers around the stonework,

Feeling the texture of the stones under those fingertips,

Walking around the lighthouse,

To a rickety wooden door,

Set within a stone arch,

You knock softly on that wooden door,

You hear the padding of footsteps from beyond the door,

And you wait with patience,

And anticipation,

Curious,

Who's going to answer the door,

And after a short time,

The latch on the door sounds,

The door opens,

The soft yellow light,

Of candles within this lighthouse,

Shine gently through the open door,

Revealing the coziest of spaces,

And a guinea pig in a suit,

With a pocket watch on a chain,

Popped into the top pocket of the suit,

The guinea pig smiles and asks who you are,

And as you're answering,

They pop that pocket watch out of their pocket,

They press the button flipping the lid of the pocket watch,

They look at that ticking watch,

Close the lid and pop it back in their pocket,

And they say that it's late,

Perhaps you should come in,

Maybe you'd like some tea,

And you graciously enter the lighthouse,

A guided to the most comfortable looking chair,

You rest down in that chair,

Sinking so deeply and peacefully into the chair,

Almost if the chair itself,

Has a magical power to evoke deep relaxation within you,

And the guinea pig brings over some tea,

The sweetest smelling tea,

It's steam,

Tickling your nostrils as you move the tea towards your lips,

And the guinea pig sits opposite you on an equally comfortable looking chair,

And for a moment you both sit in silence just drinking the tea,

And after settling in with that tea and having a few sips,

The guinea pig asks if you're curious to look around,

And you oblige and while looking around,

The guinea pig says that there must be a reason you've come here,

And you say you think this is a dream,

You're just drifting asleep,

You're camping by the most comfortable stream,

And the guinea pig explains that there are no coincidences in dreams,

If you're here,

Whether you know it or not,

You're here for a reason,

And they begin to ascend a spiral staircase,

That runs around the inside wall of the lighthouse,

Passing through holes in the floor between each level,

And through each hole is a new room,

And the next room up looks like the most beautiful living space,

The room up from that is the most incredible library,

With comfortable seats to sit and read,

Gazing out of windows,

And above that seems like a storage room,

Almost like a loft,

And above that you come out at the lighthouse itself,

On the level of the light,

And you can see that this light consists of a large flame,

And a mirror that circles around that flame,

And the light reflects off that circling mirror,

Creating a beam that sweeps across the ocean,

Around the landscape,

And then back out to sea,

And to one side of this space is a door,

Leading out to a balcony that wraps around the top of the lighthouse,

The guinea pig guides you out onto that balcony,

And up here at the top of the lighthouse,

The wind is stronger,

Almost howling past your ears,

The sounds of the waves crashing against the cliffs below,

Seems to almost echo,

And bound its way up the cliff face to your ears,

You can feel the coolness of the air out here,

And smell the salt of the ocean,

And the guinea pig and yourself rest your elbows on the fence around this balcony,

You enjoy a few moments of relaxing and breathing in that fresh air,

Before heading back inside,

And the guinea pig walks you round to a lift,

And says we'll descend in the lift,

And the lift pings and you both enter,

The lift slides shut behind you,

And you begin to descend,

And you watch those numbers 5,

4,

2,

And at 1 the door opens,

You enter at the room you started,

The guinea pig tells you,

The location of this lighthouse is actually above an ancient library,

That had been built into this cliff thousands of years earlier,

And maintained for much of that time,

And they move a rug on the floor of this room,

And under the rug is a trapdoor,

With a metal handle,

That's on that trapdoor flush with the wood,

And with a creak and a sense of weight,

They take hold of the handle,

They lift the trapdoor,

And with a thud it swings down open,

And they grab a light and begin to descend,

Inviting you to follow,

And you follow them,

Down some steps,

Into the space beneath this lighthouse,

And underneath the lighthouse,

They turn on some lights,

To illuminate a vast cavernous library,

With the smell of old books,

Wafting around this space,

Like the movement of your bodies,

Triggering that library smell to wake up,

And dance around your nostrils,

Some people arrived here,

Found a cave,

Inside of a cliff,

And decided to hide these scrolls in this cave,

And through the lifetime of those people,

They used this cave,

To store scrolls they encountered,

From their travels around the globe,

Storing that knowledge safely and hidden,

And this library seems to have grown from there,

To others,

Following on from those people,

Continuing to store even more knowledge,

Expanding the cave,

Until eventually,

The cave entrance was sealed,

And a lighthouse was built on top of the cave,

Initially used,

As a signal,

For those seeking this location,

But also having someone permanently in the lighthouse,

Who was the keeper of the knowledge,

Who protected that knowledge,

And was able to track who came here,

But through the sands of time,

Gradually,

People forgot about this place,

They stopped coming here,

They stopped exploring,

Depositing new knowledge,

And the lighthouse,

Was just manned as a lighthouse,

And whenever one person,

Would stop doing the job,

Another person would be hired to take over,

And most never explored the lighthouse fully,

And never discovered,

That if they just lifted a rug,

They could find that library,

But now they're here,

They found the library,

And they spend time,

Exploring the documents in the library,

Gathering the knowledge of the ancients,

The wisdom,

From civilizations long past,

And knowledge about,

Connecting with the world around you,

Being in harmony with the world,

And they hand you a book,

And they tell you while you're here,

Perhaps you should rest here for the night,

And as you rest here perhaps,

You could settle down in bed and read this book,

And it'll teach you,

To see the deeper nature of reality,

And open your senses,

To a whole new world,

And you head back into the library,

You settle down,

In a bed,

On one of the other levels,

You spend some time reading that book,

Discovering many aha moments,

Before drifting asleep to those aha moments,

And as you fall asleep,

So you find yourself,

Drifting deeper,

And deeper,

Into your own mind,

As if your mind,

Is transforming,

Updating itself,

With the learning you've gained from the book,

From the library under the lighthouse,

A book you discovered in the heart of a dream,

A dream you had,

In the heart of woodland,

As a stream continues,

To trickle past,

Your tent,

Like a stream of consciousness,

Continues,

To flow through your mind,

Updating,

Your neurology,

With peace and calm,

A new and deep inner wisdom,

That's destined,

To transform,

Who you are,

And how you respond,

To life's challenges,

And create the most profound positive,

Changes deep within you,

While you drift and float,

So peacefully asleep,

Into slumberland,

And deep sleep,

And deep sleep.