Fall into a magical sleep tonight in this festive bedtime story for grown-ups.
You are listening to A Cozy Halloween,
A guided sleep story that embraces all the warm,
Comforting moments of an autumn night full of fun and adventure.
Set a pumpkin patch in a beloved village known for its Halloween festivities.
Spend the afternoon carving a pumpkin and preparing for an evening of trick-or-treaters.
Feeling playful,
You dress in a Halloween costume that connects you with the parts of your personality and spirit you most love.
At bedtime,
You cuddle by the fire with your pet,
And fall asleep to the sound of rustling leaves.
It's time to dream away.
I would like to welcome you to Michelle's Sanctuary.
I am Michelle,
And as you listen,
Think of me as your fun,
Loving friend who is here to help you embrace the splendors of autumn in your evening wind-down.
You deserve to feel good at the end of each day,
And take this time to open your heart and imagination to blissful adventures before crossing the bridge into your dreamscape.
You have the power to set the tone for sleep,
And I am here to help.
Anything that disrupts your intention for peace and rest may be discarded or saved for another time.
Repose is your priority in this sacred sanctuary of your room and mind.
You are safe to be any expression of yourself that you wish to be right now.
Customize the details in a way that feels right for you.
You know yourself better than anyone else.
And feel free to let go of my voice,
And go to sleep at any point you like.
Sink into the comforts of your bed,
Surrendering to the state of ease that this moment brings.
Open your mouth and yawn,
Fake it if you struggle to yawn,
Soon you will find it comes easily and informs your brain that it is time to slow down.
Let out a sigh,
Feel your body become as heavy as a rock,
Drifting through gentle waters as it sinks to the bottom of a soft riverbed.
Your muscles ease,
And let go of tension.
When you're ready,
Sip in air slowly and fill your lungs to their utmost capacity.
Imagine the air purifies you,
Clean,
Crisp,
Soothing.
Each oxygen molecule travels throughout your body,
Bringing the message to relax.
Yawn and sigh at your leisure,
Recognize the gentle ebb and flow of your torso with each conscious breath.
When you are ready,
Enjoy this sequence one more time as you inhale deeply,
Yawn and sigh.
Be dramatic,
Be playful,
There are no rules.
Let this moment serve a sense of whimsy and release.
Notice how much more relaxed you feel now than moments ago.
You have cultivated this experience and should take this time to thank yourself.
And with that,
It's time for the story to begin.
Anyone could see that the wind was a special wind this night,
And the darkness took on a special feel,
Because it was All Hallows' Eve.
Ray Bradbury In the heart of a small village,
Surrounded by rolling hills and mountain peaks,
Exists a beloved pumpkin patch.
For an entire month,
The patch serves as a social gathering place for locals and a destination for visitors.
Thousands of pumpkins,
Some tiny,
Some corpulent,
Some stout,
And some tall,
Create an orange oasis.
The vibrant hue of the seasonal favorites creates feelings of vibrance,
Joy,
And warmth.
The pumpkins cascade down bales of hay like lava streams and brighten the most dreary gray days of fall.
In the mornings,
Villagers stop at a farm stand at the patch for seasonal coffee and cider doughnuts.
Come afternoon,
Children meander by,
After a full school day,
To run through the rows of the patch and treat themselves to cider and hot cocoa.
On weekend nights,
Live bands come to play seasonal tunes and folksy renditions of modern-day hits.
For decades,
The patch has delivered the same excitement to the village,
Once brought by traveling circuses.
The mid-afternoon sun pours over the pumpkin patch with warm,
Gilded light on Halloween day.
You walk through the rows of meticulously arranged gourds in hues of cream,
Yellow-orange,
And green with your beloved dog.
Some gourds are shaped like horns,
Others like zucchini flowers.
You run your fingers across the waxy bumps of an orange-and-beige striped gourd shaped like a hook.
The cornucopia of forms and colors is hypnotic,
And you are drawn to the uniqueness of each one.
These gourds come into this world unapologetically.
They are eccentric and misshapen,
And celebrated for their strangeness and diversity.
The gourds are a beacon of the freedom of expression,
Brought by Halloween celebrations.
You pass a table of mason jars filled with vegetables,
Jams,
And pumpkin spreads canned by local farms.
Spooktacular stickers and hand-painted autumnal signs are for sale on a table.
The largest pumpkins in the patch reside behind this display.
Three glossy red radio flyer wagons are full of pumpkins ideal for carving.
You pour over the round,
Tall orbs and select one with a dark green stem that curls around the pumpkin top like an umbrella handle.
You pick up the heavy pumpkin and balance it on your hip.
Your dog looks at you excitedly with a wagging tail.
A grassy path blanketed with fallen maple leaves leads you to a cash register beneath a pergola.
The antique register clicks as prices are entered,
And dings when the drawer closes and opens.
Dried orange,
Mulberry,
And mustard yellow-hued flowers hang in bouquets from the wooden planks of the pergola,
Dripping down like teardrops.
Their sweet,
Subtle perfume travels in the crisp air.
Silas,
A veteran of the patch,
Is an older man with kind eyes.
He wears an orange and black checkered shirt beneath a beige apron covered in Halloween-themed pins.
He offers your furry companion a pumpkin dog biscuit,
And then measures your pumpkin.
Silas lives for the patch each year,
As it takes him out of retirement and gives him a chance to connect with the community before hunkering down for the harsh winter months.
After you pay,
He offers a bandana as a gift.
On the house,
It's Halloween and all,
And the patch will be closing down soon.
Happy Halloween,
Friend,
He says to you and winks at your pup.
You thank him and take the soft bandana,
Decorated with a pattern of purple bats,
Pumpkins,
And green witch's hats,
And tie it around your dog's neck.
Your dog walks more confidently while wearing the bandana,
Delighted to parade through town on Halloween.
The village streets are magical this time of year.
The kaleidoscope of gold,
Magenta,
Chartreuse,
Rusty red,
And deep purple leaves is one wind gust away from littering the sidewalks in a colorful mosaic.
You step on a scattering of fallen leaves that have a gradient change from green to mahogany.
They haven't quite fully turned into their autumnal color,
And the in-between hues are beautiful.
The village is quiet until school lets out,
When children will roam the streets in their costumes.
You walk down Elk Street,
A charming hill lined with Victorian homes and stone cottages.
Every neighbor tries to outdo one another,
With their array of pumpkins and gourds cascading down old wooden steps to the sidewalk.
Cotton webs spread across the wooden beams of porches,
Dressed in orange and purple holiday lights.
Towering skeleton statues stand behind a gray picket fence covered in corn husks.
Sunlight filters through the colorful autumn leaves,
Illuminating a wooden cutout of a black cat perched on the railing of a Victorian home.
Your dog barks excitedly.
Your pet is aware that the cat is not real,
But playfully engages to provoke a response from you.
You laugh and tell the pup you must hurry home to carve the pumpkin before trick-or-treaters arrive.
The sun pours over you as you descend the hill and arrive at your home,
A charming Cape Cod cottage with a pitched roof and center chimney.
The quaint historic home feels the most welcoming when the weather becomes cool.
The wood structure is a haven for cozy nights indoors.
Veils of hay and copper pots of cranberry-hued mums decorate the porch.
Orange-gold lights surround the perimeter of the cottage,
And ethereal purple and black tulle hang like gossamer from the balcony railing.
Your dog races up the stairs,
And you follow behind and unleash them.
An autumn wreath hangs on the front door and smells of cinnamon sticks.
You open the door and enter the foyer,
Welcomed by the dry,
Warm air and the smell of home.
You remove your shoes and place them on a seasonal doormat that depicts a cat in a crescent moon pawing at the stars.
You walk to the dining room,
Illuminated by golden light that shines through the French doors.
Particles of dust dance like glitter in the shower of warmth and become as magical to you now as they were when you were a small child.
You spread out papers with yesterday's news across the wooden tabletop and set the pumpkin in the center.
You go to the cozy kitchen,
Which is designed in the way you always hoped your kitchen would be.
You light a jar candle that sits on the windowsill,
And the flame causes shadows to dance on the cabinets and walls.
You turn on festive Halloween tunes that set the mood for you to carve your pumpkin.
Joy bubbles over inside you.
You dance across the kitchen floor to the music with a sense of freedom and silliness.
In the safety of your cottage,
Free of judgment,
You move your body because it feels good.
You feel secure and alive,
And a smile forms on your face.
Infectious bliss causes energy to flow from head to toe.
Halloween of all days of the year is one where everyone can get away with having fun and celebrating their inner child.
Your dog sunbathes,
Spread out on a dog bed near the French doors.
You sit at the dining table and remove pumpkin carving tools from a basket.
You cut open the pumpkin and scoop out its vibrant flesh and orange strands that weave between your fingers.
You separate the slippery seeds and create a pile,
Saving them to roast for an evening snack.
Time slips away as you lose yourself in the meditative motions of carving your creation.
Without a plan,
You plot and design on a whim,
Letting your imagination take hold.
You revel in the strength of your muscles and hands as you carve through the thick exterior.
So many things are going right for you to enjoy these simple,
Seasonal pleasures.
Memory capsules activate as you chisel the pumpkin,
And your mind drifts to the many autumns of your life and their highlights.
You consider all the things you most enjoy about the season,
And the ones you wish to experience.
Before it ends,
The sun dips behind a chestnut tree in the backyard.
The leaves become more golden yellow than the sun when cast in the last hour of daylight.
You take a cloth from the basket and wipe your pumpkin clean.
The waxy orange skin glistens,
And you feel so proud of your unexpected design.
You clean up and rinse the pumpkin seeds in the sink,
Washing away the sticky juice and threads of pumpkin.
You pat them dry and then oil and season the seeds on a cookie sheet,
Placing them in the oven to roast while you get ready in your costume.
Your costume is deeply symbolic,
A testimony to all you have survived and accomplished this year to make way for fun.
This costume empowers you to be the greatest expression of the aspects you enjoy most about yourself.
In it,
You have the confidence of a 5-year-old dressed as their favorite cartoon character.
And among all the other adults in costume tonight,
You will share a special glint in your eye that reveals you are never too old to dress up and play.
You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and smile,
Having pulled off this look exactly the way you hoped.
The smell of toasted pumpkin seeds wafts in the warm air of your cozy cottage.
You return to the kitchen and remove the cookie tray with a potholder decorated with an image of leaves falling at sunset.
The image mirrors the landscape of your backyard.
The sky is ablaze with orange,
Raspberry pink,
And violet streaks.
You leave the seeds to cool and feed your pup dinner.
As they eat,
You empty bags of treats into a glittery black cauldron for when the trick-or-treaters arrive.
The familiar crinkling sound of the wrappers soothes you,
Conjuring memories of digging through collected treasures on Halloween nights.
You hope to make the night as special for the trick-or-treaters as those houses you remember being your favorite as a child,
For giving away the best things.
Your dog perks up,
Knowing the festivities are about to begin.
You adjust your dog's new bandana and gather the cauldron,
The carved pumpkin,
A lighter and a tea light to head out to your porch.
Lime green,
Orange,
And purple spotlights set to a timer come on and shine on the cottage walls.
A fog machine covers the front yard with a silvery white haze.
You place the jack-o-lantern on the porch railing and light the tea light within.
The orange orb glows brightly and lets all the children know you are open for business.
You settle on the plush cushion of your porch swing and softly rock back and forth,
With the cauldron resting on your lap.
Children in costumes parade down the street to close your eyes for a moment to take it all in.
The smell of wood smoke and decaying leaves marry the fragrant,
Warmed pumpkin and caramel smell that comes from your neighbor's home.
She always makes an array of candy-covered apples for the kids.
You hear the crackling of twigs,
The patter of excited feet on the sidewalk,
The sing-song voices of little kids crying out,
Trick-or-treat,
And the belly laughs of adult spectators.
Dreary music and the sound of creaking doors play across the street,
Where revelers enjoy a tactile experience as they dip their fingers into magical bowls to guess the contents for a prize.
Elk Street has always been safe and neighborly,
As everyone looks after one another in a timeless pact that spans generations.
A young boy dressed in a superhero costume playfully kicks acorns across the sidewalk as he approaches the fence to your home.
He runs up the walkway with his cape soaring on the night air and is the first trick-or-treater to arrive.
Your dog curiously wags their tail while sitting near the front door,
Very patient even though the sweet animal would love to run across the yard with the child and play.
The young boy lights up at the diverse array of treats in the cauldron as his parents stand on the sidewalk looking on.
In his excitement,
He hugs his arms around your leg and squeals,
Thank you.
His purulation warms your heart.
A simple gesture created an exchange of energy that you will think of often in the coming weeks.
These brief moments of connection and joy are what make all the other trials of life fade into the background.
The little superhero excitedly runs to the next home,
And a constant stream of children and teens march up the stairs to your porch,
Some beaming and confident,
While a few are timid.
You do your best to make the shy ones feel comfortable,
Asking what inspired their costume,
As if they are on the red carpet of an award show.
The attention helps them to shine,
And to feel a little more comfortable in their costume and skin.
A mermaid,
A ghost,
A carousel with twinkling lights,
A witch,
A frog,
And more superheroes than you can identify arrive at your porch.
A poodle dressed as a fairy gets the attention of your dog.
Before moving on with her family to the next home,
A grandfather dressed as Sherlock Holmes leads his three grandchildren costumed as a ladybug,
Elvis,
And a cowgirl.
A mother dressed as a disco diva carries her newborn girl dressed as a disco ball.
The constant parade of creativity and of happy souls dressed in fanciful costumes is the stuff that dreams are made of.
You never know what to expect and delight in the surprises that come,
But the warmest moment arrives when a three-year-old girl comes to your stoop and insists that her mother take a photo of you and your dog.
She looks at you and says one day she hopes to have a costume and a puppy just like yours.
And it simply melts your heart.
The hours blend into one another,
And soon the last of the trick-or-treaters come to your door.
You reward them with the rest of the contents of the sparkly cauldron,
Feeling a wave of tiredness come over you.
The kids excitedly cheer,
Exclaiming you are the best house they have visited,
Before they disappear into the night with their bounty.
You turn off the Halloween lights and fog machine,
And then blow out the candle of your jack-o-lantern.
You take your dog around the block for one last night walk.
The streets are quiet once again,
As the wind picks up,
And a mini-cyclone of fallen dry leaves skirts by the gutter as it travels down the street.
The temperature drops slightly,
And the chill makes you long for the chenille blanket on your sofa and a night by the fire.
You ask your dog if they are ready to snuggle,
And their ears lift curiously,
And then they eagerly lead you home.
You climb the stairs to the porch,
And they creak with a familiar sound and pattern that feels like a welcome home.
You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror in the foyer and smile,
Thrilled to pull off another successful Halloween.
Your pup is your second shadow.
You remove your dog's leash and bandana,
And hang them on a coat hook.
Your pup is your second shadow,
And waits outside the bedroom door while you change into comfortable jersey loungewear.
The fabric hugs around your body and evokes a spontaneous sigh of comfort.
You return to the living room and start a fire in the brick fireplace.
The dry wood catches quickly and fills the room with warmth and crackles and pops.
The forecast predicts a frost in the morning.
Your pup cuddles in a bed by the fire as you go to the kitchen to gather your seasoned pumpkin seeds and prepare your favorite hot drink.
Through the window above the kitchen sink,
You watch the vibrant yellow leaves of the chestnut tree rustle in the night breeze.
A pearly crescent moon glows between the branches as leaves shower the earth.
Stars glitter in the sky.
On the last night of October,
Change is on the way,
As it always is.
The more pronounced this time of year,
You revel in the sacred present moment.
So many details flash across your mind,
Like a short film,
Reliving the best moments of the day.
You gather your drink and the seeds,
And turn off the radio that still plays Halloween music.
You return to the living room to find your dog softly snoring in the amber firelight.
You sip the warm drink and enjoy the taste of autumn.
Leaves shuffle across the porch,
And wind chimes fill the night air with a melodic song.
Orange marmalade-hued sparks fly up the chimney,
And the flames dance against the soot-covered walls in a mesmerizing display.
As a ritual,
You put on your favorite Halloween film,
And sink into the soft couch cushions wrapped in a chenille throw.
The scenes are familiar,
The dialogue is etched in your memory,
And you drift between the present moment,
A dreamy state,
And the plot of the film in a sleepy haze.
Your eyelids become heavy,
And your body welcomes the sensation.
The flames burn down into magenta-silver embers.
You take the TV clicker and turn off the film,
Waking your dog.
Your eyes and the centuries-old floorboards softly creak beneath your cozy socks.
As you walk down the hall,
You wash your face with warm water and vanilla-amber soap,
And brush your teeth in the moonlight that pours through the bathroom skylights.
Clean,
Refreshed,
And so very tired,
You go to your bedroom.
You pull back your favorite comforter and crisp sheets at the plush mattress,
Encouraging your dog to jump up.
You climb into the bed and sink into its comforts.
The comforter is heavy and eases you as you surrender to sleep.
The soft sighs of your pet and the whispering autumn breeze lull you into a state of deep relaxation as you drift between worlds,
Between wakefulness and sleep,
Weaving back and forth until you can no longer resist the pull of slumber.
Going deeper and deeper down,
You feel the sweetness of repose,
Finding bliss,
Finding peace,
Finding enchantment,
Finding sleep.
It's time to dream away.
