Autumn Night In 1987

Tonight's cozy sleep story invites you to time travel through autumn's splendor.

You are listening to Autumn Escape in 1987.

Journey to Chestnut Harbor,

A quaint riverside hamlet,

To enjoy the simplicity of the 80s with a sense of fun.

Lush October sunlight pours through the windows of a 19th-century brick firehouse that hosts an annual Halloween party.

Revel in the nostalgia from colorful costumes,

Retro candy,

And popular games.

Explore a haunted house that offers funny interactions and playful frights.

As the evening winds down,

You walk home through streets lined with pumpkins and autumn leaves,

Returning to your cozy Cape Cod-style cottage to be lulled to sleep by the gentle sound of the whispering wind.

It's time to dream away.

Welcome to Michelle's Sanctuary.

I am Michelle,

Your fellow time traveler in tonight's story.

I'm merely a guide and encourage you to craft and modify any details of this story to enhance your experience and ideas about the 1980s.

There are no rules or restrictions in this dreamy mental vacation.

Think of me as your sidekick and longtime friend,

Here to remind you how much you deserve this moment to unwind.

You've made it through another day,

And all that's transpired may be left behind as you delve into the sweetness of coming down.

Get as cozy and comfortable as you can as you master the art of self-soothing and turn your attention inward.

Let's enjoy a few conscious breaths together to clear the air and set the tone for the night.

Feel an air of magic permeate your room,

Delivered by a crisp fall breeze that seamlessly liberates leaves from their branches as they set sail on new adventures.

Revel in the snugly warmth of your bed and in the safety of the sanctuary of your room and mind.

Let out a big sigh to cast away any concerns or tension into a starry night sky.

Take in a deep,

Expansive breath until you fill up to your utmost capacity.

Imagine the crisp air of 1987 fills your room,

Refreshing and teeming with the enchanting anticipation of a small town Halloween parade.

As you exhale in a sigh,

Your breath takes on the power of the night breeze that causes tea light candles and carved pumpkins to rapidly flicker.

Continue to inhale and sigh,

Perhaps adding a yawn in between if that helps you relax more.

Take a pace that aligns with your mood.

The scent of fermenting apples,

Crackling bonfires,

And cinnamon-laced pumpkins fills your lungs,

Grounding you in the heart of Chestnut Harbor.

With each inhale,

Your connection to this nostalgic fall scene deepens.

Each yawn sends sleepy waves throughout your body,

Inspiring you to come down from the day.

And every audible sigh invites you to release tension,

Blending your breath with the rhythm of the breeze and the soothing glow of candlelight.

The faint trace of wood smoke and sweet decaying leaves meet your nose.

And when you exhale in your final sigh,

The sound of your breath joins the whistling wind through the changing trees and the distant laughter of costumed children dashing down festive cobblestone lanes.

Allow your breath to gently return to a natural sleepy tempo,

Noticing how much more relaxed you are now.

Embrace the warmth of this cherished moment we've crafted together as the story unfolds.

Chestnut Harbor was aptly named for the long thoroughfare to Still River,

Lined on each side with towering chestnut trees.

Once a dirt road frequented by horses and buggies to the riverbank,

Cobblestones replaced the oft-muddy mess in the early 1800s.

Whispers of the past are in every corner of this charming hamlet that comes to life with full festivities each year.

Fiery gold sunlight filters through the canopy of vibrant yellow chestnut leaves that sail on the river breeze,

Landing among scattered chestnuts still in their tawny brown burrs.

Squirrels and chipmunks gather abundant piles that they tuck away in tree hollows for the winter,

Leaving behind their discards for children to collect after school.

The kids will carefully unwrap the chestnuts to reveal their waxy brown orbs,

Using them as a made-up currency for their imaginative games.

As the sun begins to lower toward the horizon,

The sky transforms into a canvas of rich pastels with shades of deep pink and lavender brushing against the baby blue.

The temperature is just cool enough to warrant a scarf and sweater,

And the crisp air invigorates you,

Carrying the sweet earthy scent of fallen leaves.

Each storefront along Chestnut Street,

The post office,

Library,

Pub,

Diner,

And five-and-dime displays a vibrant array of Halloween decorations,

While the stone,

Brick,

And marble facades of the buildings have an old-timey feel.

The holiday embellishments truly capture the spirit of 1987.

Purple,

Orange,

And black banners sway gently in the breeze,

Proclaiming happy Halloween and trick-or-treat in bold,

Funky letters of the 80s.

Plump,

Tall pumpkins line the steps,

Their faces carved into the likenesses of Cindy Lauper,

The Bangles,

And Pee-wee Herman in their flamboyant hairstyles and signature looks meticulously rendered in glowing orange flesh.

Each will serve as inspiration for the Halloween costumes in tonight's gatherings,

Of that you are sure.

Besoms,

Bewitching broomsticks adorned with colorful ribbons,

Twinkling lights,

And faux cobwebs hang from the eaves of the diner and pub,

Both bustling with locals,

On this perfect fall afternoon,

Adding a playful touch to the festive scene.

Black tulle drapes over doorways and windows,

Fluttering gently like the veils of feminine soothsayers.

A scarecrow sits comfortably in a rocking chair on the porch of the town library,

A copy of Charlotte's Web resting in his lap.

Dressed in blue overalls and a patched shirt,

His straw hat tilts at a jaunty angle.

A glittery velvet spider hangs from a pearly thread just before his face.

On Halloween night,

The local librarian offers free bookmarks as giveaways,

As trick-or-treaters pose with the scarecrow for an instant polaroid snapshot to take home.

The front windows of the bank display a rustic farmhouse table with a wicker cornucopia basket.

The cornucopia horn is elegantly yet hauntingly beautiful.

Overflowing with green gourds,

Ornamental corn,

And tiny pumpkins painted with black spiders and purple webs.

Vibrant fall foliage spills out,

Adding bursts of burnt orange and fiery red.

Contrasting the buttery yellows and greens of the harvest.

Antique lanterns feature flickering electric candles that reflect on the glass.

A few larger pumpkins are adorned with glittering stickers of stars and lightning bolts,

A nod to the iconic motifs of the 1980s.

You watch a procession of children and adults in costumes down the main street to the annual Halloween party being held at the local firehouse.

The entire month of October offers an array of festive gatherings,

And with a week before Halloween,

Tonight's event is treated like a dress rehearsal.

You notice right away,

And it feels both strange and nice,

That no one has a phone in hand.

Everyone is present and aware of what is unfolding before them.

Not distracted by a need to document or research something on their handheld device.

You revel in the feeling of not having a device yourself,

Relying more on instincts and others to get you to where you need to go.

Classic cars of the 1980s park diagonally on the street,

Their boxy shapes and bright hues like electric blue,

Fiery red,

And sunny yellow.

Each one a nostalgic reminder of the decade's flair.

You walk behind two parents and their twin 10-year-old girls,

Who parade down the street in colorful costumes with a sass of teenagers they try to emulate.

Dressed in oversized t-shirts featuring popular bands,

And neon leggings with rainbow leg warmers,

Their vibrant bold patterns could illuminate the way on a dark autumn night.

They each have a side ponytail going in the opposite direction,

The sunlight creating a halo around their fine strands of baby hair.

Your attention turns to your costume.

It embraces everything you love most about the 80s.

It feels fun,

Is inspired by your inner child,

And brings a smile to your face.

You get to be yourself,

But you also get to be someone else.

You feel confident and empowered as you follow all the other costumed villagers to the end of chestnut harbor street.

You revel in the chance to enjoy the special time where a sense of community prevails and the world is so much quieter without a constant news cycle or stream of information.

Everyone makes an effort to connect and foster these time-honored gatherings.

Chestnut street ends in a harbor and riverfront park,

And you turn right,

Passing an old restored opera house that now serves as a movie theater.

You approach the two-story,

Shiny,

Cherry red brick firehouse that hosts the Halloween party each year.

The firehouse was built when Chestnut Harbor became a popular destination,

The pristine riverbank offering a beach getaway for city dwellers as the population swelled in the summer months.

It was but one of many chapters in the story town that has risen and fallen many times throughout the centuries.

A blazing bonfire in a tall metal bin stands before the firehouse,

And the irony of this isn't lost on you.

Kids in costume carefully roast marshmallows on long metal sticks,

Their faces illuminated by the flickering flames.

The crackling of the fire mingles with the distant sound of the river lapping against the rocks and crunchy dry leaves dusting the sidewalk swept by the breeze.

You inhale the smell of the river and the sweet char of roasted marshmallows and melted chocolate.

The doors to the garage of the firehouse are wide open to the public,

And as you enter,

You're greeted by the cheerful chaos of the festivities in full swing.

The scent of cider doughnuts,

Candy corn cupcakes,

And hot cider wafts through the warm,

Dry air.

The last rays of sunlight filter through sheer,

Billowing,

Black lace curtains strung throughout the space.

Volunteer firefighters,

Dressed in their flame-retardant suspender pants and t-shirts,

Have transformed themselves into whimsical characters.

Dalmatians with painted spots,

Wood nymphs adorned with leafy crowns,

Count Dracula with a dramatic cape,

Ghostly apparitions,

And playful zombies.

Inside,

The garage hums with excitement.

As children gather around a firetruck draped in cobwebs,

Eagerly awaiting their turn for a tour of the truck and a chance to ring the bell and honk the horn.

The atmosphere is filled with the joyful squeals of children,

Dressed as their favorite pop-culture icons of the time.

Some don bleached blonde wigs and large sunglasses,

Reminiscent of Madonna,

While others sport the signature red jumpsuits of the Ghostbusters.

The bangles play,

And a group of young women dressed like the female band do their best to walk like an Egyptian.

You savor every last magical trace of nostalgia,

Feeling like the observer from another time that you are.

Knowing one day this era will end makes you more deeply appreciate the scene as it unfolds.

A huge bin of ice-cold water holds an array of Empire and Macintosh apples,

Enticing partygoers to bob for them.

A game that will soon fade from popularity,

But thrives in this moment,

Laughter erupting with each splash.

With every successful bob,

The cheers echo throughout the space,

Joining in with the sounds of Monster Mash that begins to play from the cassette deck,

As if the costumes and camaraderie weren't already enough to have you joyfully aching for the 80s.

The Candy Buffet is a nostalgic feast for the eyes and taste buds,

Overflowing with sugary confections of the time.

Long tables draped in shimmery orange and black cloths are dotted with clear glass bowls and silver platters,

Each brimming with colorful sweets that beckon partygoers to indulge.

Packets of pop rocks fan out across the beginning of the buffet.

You can feel them crackle and fizz at the mere thought of tasting them.

The vibrant little crystals,

Ranging from cherry red to neon green,

Promising an explosion of sugar on the tongue.

Tart and sweet fun dip packets hang with clothespins on satin ribbons strung across the table.

The pouches contain sweet powder and the accompanying bland white candy sticks,

Made for dipping and licking the tangy sweetness coating your lips.

It's quite obvious that popular 80s candies are meant to be a fun sensory experience.

Ring pops in every color of the rainbow gleam like shiny jewels.

They're oversized plastic rings,

Waiting for kids to slip them onto their fingers.

In the heart of the table,

A pyramid of stacked tiny boxes of runts and nerds offer sugary crunches and flavors from grape to banana.

Cherry and strawberry push pops rest in a crystal bowl,

An alternative to ring pops and more easily saved for later.

Jolly ranchers fill a tall glass jar,

Glistening in their individual wrappers.

The hard candies come in sharp fruit flavors,

Like watermelon,

Green apple,

And cherry,

Tangy enough to make your mouth pucker.

You listen to the crinkle of plastic and paper bags crinkle of plastic and paper bags that are filled to the brim by kids and adults alike.

At the center of the candy buffet is a bowl of bonkers,

Beloved fruit chews that have a juicy,

Gooey center wrapped in a soft,

Sugary shell.

Stacked in another tray are wax bottles,

Small brightly colored bottles filled with syrup inside,

Waiting to be bitten into for that sugary reward.

Their wax is as appealing as the dozens of red wax candy lips and red licorice cigars strewn about the table.

Tiny charms blow pops are arranged like flower bouquets in small crystal vases,

Each lollipop concealing a bubblegum surprise inside.

Airheads,

Rainbow candy buttons along strips of paper as long as modern day receipts,

Whatchamacallits,

Chunky bars,

And reggie bars are next to full-sized charleston shoes.

You gather a small paper candy bag adorned with pumpkins and ghosts to fill with your favorite selections.

Kids and adults alike,

Dressed in their vibrant 80s costumes,

Eagerly scoop handfuls of candy,

The crinkle of wrappers adding to the buzzing energy.

A little girl,

Dressed in neon bright aerobics attire,

Complete with leg warmers and hair teased 5 inches above her scalp,

Fills her pumpkin-patterned bag with pop rocks and bonkers,

Her eyes wide with excitement,

Her choice is not exactly what a real fitness instructor might select.

Nearby,

A boy in a gray suit,

Bowtie and white shirt mimics Pee Wee Herman's laugh as he places a ring pop on his thumb,

While a group of teenagers dressed as 80s rockstars,

One with a wild blonde wig,

Another in a studded leather jacket,

Laugh and compare their candy holes.

The firehouse is soon filled with the iconic beat of Michael Jackson's thriller,

The unmistakable opening notes echoing through the room,

Setting the perfect eerie yet playful tone.

As the chorus hits,

The music pulses in time with the energy of the gathering,

While adults dressed as everything from Rubik's cubes to life-sized black and white dye take to the center of the fire station and begin the choreographed dance from the music video.

The fruity smells at the buffet and a single taste of your favorite 80s candy awaken nostalgia,

Revealing how a simple sugary confection dissolving on your tongue can transport you instantly to a different place and time.

After gathering your treats,

You ascend the plush beige carpeted steps that wind around to the second floor,

Where eerie black lights flicker over the firefighter's lounge,

Casting long shadows.

The space has been transformed into a haunted house and the atmosphere thickens with a low,

Eerie soundtrack.

As you enter,

An ethereal old woman with long silvery white hair stands before you,

Draped in a vintage bride's gown and a long ivory veil.

Her eyes are mischievous,

Her countenance reveals a playfulness.

She gestures toward a table filled with black plastic cauldrons,

Their contents hidden beneath layers of colored saran wrap.

The air is cool with just a hint of something sweet,

A mix of candied apples and the earthy scent of carved pumpkins.

The haunted house is filled with a quiet murmur of nervous giggles and whispers,

And as you approach the table,

Your senses heighten.

You slip your hand into the first bowl,

Greeted by the wet,

Squishy texture of peeled grapes and the old woman describes them as eyeballs of past husbands who could not see all the good she offered.

You play along like a good sport.

Beside it,

A cauldron of cold,

Slick spaghetti strands.

Your guts slither through your fingers like something otherworldly.

You trail behind a five-year-old girl dressed as Miss Piggy.

Her white,

Lace,

Fingerless gloves,

Far too fancy for such an activity,

Disappear into a small cauldron that holds the slippery,

Stringy insides of a freshly carved pumpkin.

Her giggles are infectious,

So pure and intoxicating as she plays along with this game for the first time.

You watch her tiny fingers poke and prod with innocent curiosity,

Delighting in the grossness of the game as the old lady throws her head toward the tin ceiling and cackles.

You can't help but smile as Miss Piggy invites you to dunk your fingers into a cauldron of green slime.

You let the gooey contents slip through your fingers,

Suddenly transported back to a time when Halloween wasn't about being scared,

But about the simple,

Childlike joy of discovery.

Miss Piggy invites you to follow her along as she runs through a black beaded curtain into a ghostly living room where she takes a turn at scaring the outfitted volunteer ghosts.

A fog machine fills the room with a soft,

Gray haze that captures the twinkling orange and purple lights.

The little girl leads you to the other side of the haunted room where a cozy fire burns,

And other attendees gather with hot cocoa and cider.

You help yourself to a warm beverage and settle in an overstuffed chair nestled by mullioned floor-to-ceiling windows that look out onto the misty river and decorated riverfront street.

Children below carve pumpkins at a picnic table,

Illuminated by antique glass tabletop lanterns.

Amber light dances on their faces,

Casting shadows on the basketball-sized pumpkins that they carve.

The party begins to wind down,

And you watch from your seat by the windows as the procession of guests drifts out into the night,

The sounds of laughter and closing car doors reverberating in the cool air.

Costumed figures make their way toward their homes and cars,

Their silhouettes bathed in the golden glow of porch lights and flickering jack-o'-lanterns.

The flames in the fireplace burn down into glowing embers as you rise from your chair and stretch.

A full moon takes center stage outside,

Casting light into the room as a firefighter dressed as a Dalmatian gives you a playful choice to descend the stairs that you came up or to take the fire pole down.

A whimsical part of you can't be resisted.

And with a burst of childlike freedom,

You glide down the smooth,

Cool,

Silver pole.

The sensation of effortless motion fills you with joy,

And you land gracefully on the first floor.

You say goodnight and thank the firefighters and all the volunteers who made this party possible.

As you step outside,

The village is wrapped in the stillness of night.

Pumpkins and gourds decorate the doorsteps of old Victorian homes and cottages.

The air smells faintly of wood smoke and dried leaves carried on the breeze from Still River.

The homes that line the river are filled with the scent of old homes and cottages.

The homes that line the riverfront are quiet,

Their lights dimming one by one as residents settle in for the night.

The dark blue-gray waters of Still River reflect the moonlight,

Rippling ever so slightly in time with the breeze.

The river current carries maple and chestnut leaves downstream,

Iridescent in the moonlight.

You make your way down the cobblestone street.

The sound of your footsteps,

Muffled by the fallen leaves scattered across the ground.

The cottage you've been staying at comes into view.

A quaint Cape Cod-style home with weathered cedar shingles and a small front porch adorned with cranberry and mustard gold mums and an autumn wreath.

While the exterior of the cottage captures the essence of the old village,

The interior boasts the modernity of 1987.

A beige rotary phone sits on a small table near the kitchen and a wood-paneled television set rests in the corner of the living room,

Its screen dark and quiet.

You walk through the space,

Inhaling the scent of autumn potpourri and noticing the pressed maple leaves that decorate the mantle above the stone hearth.

You enter the bathroom with a fuzzy blue toilet cover that matches the curtains and bath mats and even the blue toilet paper.

You change out of your costume and feel instantly more comfortable.

You trade it for a thick terrycloth robe as you draw a hot shower.

The bathtub sill is abundant with bottles of thick green prel shampoo and a blue bar of zest soap.

When the water is the perfect temperature,

You disrobe and step in the shower.

The water washes away the night of adventures,

Its warmth settling in your muscles and bones.

You linger for a while,

Inhaling and exhaling and savoring this night.

You step onto the fuzzy mat and towel off,

Slipping into soft flannel pajamas with a neon geometric pattern.

Your feet sink into the plush carpet of the hallway.

As you make your way to the bedroom where an old-fashioned brass bed with a quilted blue comforter awaits,

The room is cozy with wood-paneled walls,

A teal-tinted glass floor lamp casting a warm glow,

And a shelf lined with VHS tapes and cassettes.

You turn off the light and the red glow from a digital radio alarm clock reflects on the wood-paneled walls.

You slide into bed,

Sinking into the soft springiness of the mattress and bringing the blanket just beneath your chin.

Outside,

The wind rustles through the trees and the leaves brush gently against the window.

The breeze from the river slips through the slightly cracked window,

Bringing with it the scent of the night.

Cool,

Earthy,

And touched with the sweet decay of autumn.

As you close your eyes,

A soft smile forms on your face,

And you replay the night's joyful moments,

The camaraderie of Chestnut Harbor,

The nostalgic tastes,

And the spooky season.

Elevate your spirits as you approach the timeless realm of slumber,

The sussurating music of autumn leaves brushing against the windows,

And the gentle flow of the river lull you into a peaceful sleep on this perfect fall night in 1987.

And as you close your eyes,

A soft smile forms on your face,

And you replay the night's joyful moments,

The nostalgic tastes,

And the spooky season.

Elevate your spirits as you approach the timeless realm of slumber,

The gentle flow of the river lull you into a peaceful sleep on this perfect fall night in 1987.

Finding magic,

Finding comfort,

Finding bliss,

Finding sleep.

It's time to dream away.

Good night.