A Winter's Walk: Guided Sleep Meditation & Bedtime Story

Relax in your bed and allow yourself to take flight on the wings of your imagination into night sleep story and guided meditation.

In this bedtime story for adults,

You will begin on a walk through the sleepy city streets of New York at night.

As snow falls and coats the sidewalks and sparkling white snowflakes,

You explore Rockefeller Center and the holiday storefront display windows of Saks Fifth Avenue.

You are drawn to a display of a cozy cabin in the woods and as you press your hand against the cool glass,

A clock strikes midnight and you are transported inside the make-believe scene.

You find respite from the snow in the log cabin and fall asleep to the sounds of a crackling fire and howling winter winds.

It's time to dream away.

I would like to welcome you to Michelle's Sanctuary.

I am here just for you.

To help you meet all your needs for sleep,

You have earned this time to luxuriate in feelings of coziness,

Peace and splendor.

You may think of my voice as that of your dear old friend who is here to remind you that you deserve some me time.

You've earned every second of peace,

So relish this adventure before you cross over into your dreaming life.

And in this gentle surrender,

All your concerns may be solved by your subconscious mind as you go deep into slumber.

At any point you may let go of my voice and drift to sleep.

Because this is your journey.

This is your special time to do whatever works best for you.

I am simply here to help.

Feel gratitude for the safety of your room.

This is your sanctuary for sleep and your mind is your sanctuary for self soothing and the most beautiful of thoughts.

Take in a deep breath and let your body feel as if you are floating towards the ceiling of your room.

And then exhale and sigh and shift and sink deep into your bed.

Now inhale and float higher and higher up towards the ceiling as it opens into the night's sky and you are drifting up and away towards a blanket of stars.

And as you exhale,

You are falling down,

Down,

Down,

Drifting towards a new adventure.

You feel your feet land upon the concrete sidewalks of midtown Manhattan.

There is a gentle crunch in the blanket of freshly fallen snow that continues to accumulate at a steady pace.

You are adorned in your ideal winter attire,

Warm and tightly wrapped around your body like a well fitted glove.

The city is so very quiet at this hour,

When it is often bustling.

You walk through the lights of Times Square,

Looking southerly to see the vibrant colors and iconic signs and marquees of Broadway.

You are the only person to be seen for many blocks.

A cab dashes downtown,

It's a broad streak of yellow against the wintery white streets.

Nearing midnight,

You are drawn to the magical intrigue of the city that never sleeps,

But has somehow become sleepy on this night.

Feeling restless,

You decided that a walk in the chilly night's air would help you relax and calm your mind before sleep,

More than tossing and turning in bed would.

You walk towards the Avenue of Americas and admire the holiday lights strung around barren trees and the oversized ruby red ornaments that rest atop a fountain and a plaza.

The water cascades down the marble fixture as snowflakes fall and float for a second or two before they melt and are absorbed by the glistening sable water.

You walk to the corner and see the lights of Radio City Music Hall.

The historic theater is now vacant and you feel as if you are part of a secret world at night,

Where the beauty enjoyed by millions is now but for your own personal bliss.

You walk along West 50th Street beneath the iconic Art Deco Red and Blue Neon sign for NBC Studios and the Rainbow Room.

You look up and admire the skyscraper that illuminates the purple grey sky and the haze that forms around its golden lights.

The snowflakes fall and if you land on your lips and melt,

You feel the history of New York,

The vibrations of souls to have visited through many eras have left their blissful marks.

And you are now here to enjoy it all and leave your mark on history.

You continue towards the middle of the block and encounter the plaza where the Rockefeller Christmas tree stands in all its grandeur.

You look at the lights twinkling in a rainbow of colors and your eyes travel to the star on top.

It beams brighter than any ornamentation you have ever seen and its sharp points reflect beams of silvery white light towards the buildings of Midtown and towards the sky.

You look to the vacant skating rink,

Its icy white sheen now covered in prismatic snowflakes beneath the gilded iconic statue of Prometheus,

The Titan God of Fire.

Prometheus who was known for stealing fire from the gods and giving it to civilization.

And the opulence of the statue,

So gold and luminous,

Radiates a warm glow amid the coolness of the winter's night.

You walk along the plaza and find yourself in a narrow mall surrounded by life-sized angel sculptures playing trumpets in the direction of the Rockefeller tree.

They drip in honey gold lights that gleam and create an aura with the oversized starry orbs that look like sea urchins.

The night is so quiet and still,

You can hear your own breathing when you exhale and the air condenses in a tiny cloud.

You think of the first time your breath ever condensed and you noticed it,

How it felt like a super power and magical force.

And your breath is now your powerful force,

Your vehicle through life.

Your nose tingles in the cold air and you once again inhale and exhale in this calm,

Relaxed state that comes when the mind enters a meditative state during a long leisurely walk.

You come to the crosswalk of a busy intersection where the busiest activity comes from the oversized snowflakes that dance beneath the illumination of city lights and street lamps draped in red bows and evergreen boughs.

You look across the street to see the window display of Saks Fifth Avenue.

The windows are dressed to display wintry scenes from high fashions of the times to simpler times in history.

A light show begins and you are the sole viewer.

You see the diagonal strands of emerald green and electric blue and ruby red lights change in a pulsing pattern.

The light show is hypnotic and holiday tunes echo along Fifth Avenue,

Playing along to the changing lights.

You cross the avenue on the side of St.

Patrick's Cathedral beneath the covering of snow illuminated by the kaleidoscope of lights by the neighboring storefront.

The neo-gothic church looks like it's comprised of rainbow candle wax dripping down tapered candles.

You approach the first window display just a few minutes before midnight.

The scene is set in the 19th century and in the wintry woods a log cabin is nestled in the enchanted setting.

The scenery sky is a brilliant sapphire blue,

Dabbled with silver stars made of gemstones and a sliver of a moon that gleams on the snow covered evergreens and purple-black silhouette of a mountain.

And as you walk closer to the window,

You recognize the figurine in the setting resembles you in another time.

Adorned in an old fashioned wool coat and high lace-up boots,

The resemblance is uncanny.

A glowing torch is in the delicate hands of this replication and flames are formed out of silk cutouts that dance.

Fake snow falls like fairy dust,

Slow and steady from the top of the display.

It is powdery and opal and shimmers like a satchel of glitter.

And as you lean closer,

You remove a glove and place the palm of your hand against the cool slick pane of glass.

A few snowflakes melt on your skin before the clock strikes midnight and you feel yourself melting into the glass.

A soft magnetic pull brings you in and you surrender to the sensation as you are drawn into the scene.

You feel light and you float across the sapphire blue sky.

As velvety as the stage curtains on Broadway,

The sky is the perfect canvas for the stars that shine like the most decadent of jewels in the display case at Tiffany's.

But you soon realize as you drift over the quiet landscape of another era that life is more simple in this world.

The stars appear to burn brighter without the lights of a city below.

The crescent of a moon,

Like the most delicate sliver of a silver pie,

Hangs above the dark forest that is covered with a blanket of freshly fallen snow.

You land on a path in the woods,

Adorned in a wool coat and an additional shawl that acts like a cape.

The clothing feels heavy and warm,

Grounding you on the earth as you crunch along the snow.

In the distance,

You hear an owl hooting with a melodic sound that travels through the quiet forest.

You stand for a moment and take in the stillness and the beauty of the landscape.

Your hand grips around the grainy wood of a torch that illuminates the forest and leaves an amber cast on the snow and the trees,

Dancing across the clearing where you walk.

The snow,

So bright and reflective,

The light of the crescent moon and stars,

Provide enough light on their own.

It's something about holding this torch feels enchanted and timeless.

It makes you feel that you are a leader and you are the leader of your own life and these nightly adventures.

The world feels vast and you feel more alive.

And the magic of this night's walk is helping your mind become much calmer than when you first set out into the night.

The snow is dense and muffles the waves of sound so they may not travel and echo as they normally do.

The quiet of the woods makes you ponder the idea of hibernation and how nice it would be to sleep through the winter months,

To burrow in the depths of a warm,

Safe sanctuary and sleep and dream away the most frigid,

Icy blue days.

But now you watch your breath condense on the air in a fine mist that is silvery and ethereal.

You feel the cold air slip across your face like a tingling veil that brings you completely into the moment.

Up ahead you see tiny paw prints in the snow.

At first plentiful,

They dash through the white powder until they end.

You come to their mysterious end point and hear a soft shuffle and turn towards the sound.

You look to see a red fox that watches you with the same curiosity that you have for him.

His tail is fluffy and plush and he tiptoes on the snow,

Flashing the ivory underside of his tail that reflects light like a magic wand.

He gracefully and slowly walks deeper into the woods and you sense an invitation to follow.

You hear the softest sounds of running water and the red fox leads you towards an icy blue stream that is covered with a thin layer of ice.

It looks like a sheet of glass with tiny fissures.

The fox takes a sip from the brisk clean water and as he drinks,

The stream becomes like a reflecting pond.

On it words begin to appear,

Lighting up the tiny bubbles beneath the ice and cracks in the surface.

Like silvery blue strings of lights,

You read the word believe.

You hear a whisper in the forest,

The encouraging voice of your most nurturing advocate in this life,

Asking you to believe.

To believe in possibilities.

In your future.

In your imagination.

And all it may offer in forms of solutions as you sleep.

And then the word disappears.

To spell the word hope.

And you see as the illuminated letters spread out across the water in bright lights.

And the word floats downstream.

As hope feels so light and focusing on hope floating downstream makes you feel as if you are floating as well.

The fox looks to you one last time before dashing off to his warm place of refuge.

And you instinctively follow the stream towards the clearing where there is a log cabin.

You crunch across the snow and before you enter the dwelling,

You turn around to take in the beautiful solitude and the landscape that is so pristine it looks to be the work of an artist's hand.

The majesty of the twinkling stars and rich blue tapestry of a sky spans to the mountainous horizon.

The spruce and pine trees are dappled between barren,

Ethereal,

Deciduous trees with their thin,

Gnarly branches.

The untouched snow has a sheen that comes from the thinnest top layer of ice that forms across it.

You inhale the piney fragrance and cool night's air,

Thinking of the journey it took to get here.

From the comforts of your bed,

To the dazzling holiday displays of New York,

To this imagined landscape within the confines of a display now come to life.

You realize all these places exist within you at once.

Feeling so very tired and also quite relaxed,

You walk towards the cabin.

The logs of the dwelling are wide and a mahogany hue that is illuminated by the palette of crisp white snow and the moon.

Your feet guide you up the steps of the modest porch of the hand-built home that was made with love and the abundant resources of the forest.

You approach the front door and grasp onto the rustic cast iron latch to open it,

Balancing your torch in your other hand as you carefully enter the cabin.

The inside is cozy and modest,

Simple and yet welcome.

You close the door on the cold night and enter the main room of the cabin that serves as a kitchen,

Dining area,

And bedroom in one.

You walk to the fireplace,

Which is already loaded with kindling,

And use your torch to ignite it.

As the fire catches and illuminates the room,

You blow out the torch and lean it against the stone façade of the fireplace.

There is an old-fashioned black iron that hangs from the fireplace wall and warms.

It's meant to be used to heat the sheets on the bed.

You remove your winter attire and replace the dry,

Warm pajamas that hang on a wooden rack with the winter articles of clothing so they may dry.

You change into the crisp white vintage styled cotton pajamas and remove the iron from the heat.

You walk across the creaking wooden floorboards of the cottage to a raised bed that is quite high.

You peel back a heavy patchwork quilt and you begin to iron the cold sheets.

The heat activates a soft fragrance of lavender soap.

Once you are done,

You hang the iron on a hook near the fire and return to the bed.

You relish the sensation of warm lavender sheets.

You pull the heavy quilt over you,

Feeling its comforting weight tuck you in.

The winter winds howl outside and you feel yourself drifting and floating towards sleep.

The shadows created by the flickering fire dance around like mountain peaks forming on the log walls.

You close your eyes and surrender to the feeling of sinking into the bed.

As you drift towards sleep,

You imagine the snow is filling the footprints you created on a walk and you see your feet create new impressions in the snow.

Moving forward,

Not looking back,

You count each step,

Crunching into the snow,

Leaving your mark.

For a brief moment in time,

These prints will remain untouched.

Moving one step and then another,

You count each step.

1,

2,

3,

4,

5,

6,

7,

8,

9,

10,

And then you let go,

Falling into the comforts of the darkness of the night,

Drifting across the bridge like a bridge over the icy blue stream.

It leads you to dreams to come and to let go of my voice.

Finding peace,

Finding grace,

Finding stillness,

Finding ease,

Finding sleep.

It's time to dream away.

Good night.