Relax and get cozy in tonight's sleep story in guided sleep meditation entitled The Early Snow Squall.
In this dreamy escape,
You find yourself on a train along the Hudson River during peak fall foliage.
The late afternoon is met with snow squalls and a white dusting covers the jewel toned leaves in a magical setting on the cusp of winter.
A loved one meets you at the station and drives you through the country roads to a log cabin.
Fireside you enjoy hot beverages as the snow pelts against the home and you relive your favorite adventures together.
You fall asleep nestled on the sofa with a cat purring between you.
It's time to dream away.
I'd like to welcome you to Michelle's Sanctuary.
I am Michelle and as you are listening,
Think of my voice as that of a dear friend who is here every night to help you remember how to use your imagination to self-soothe and unwind before sleep.
This is your time for treating yourself with a sleep routine.
It's time to feel safe and comfortable before slumber.
And you may allow in only the most pleasing of images and experiences before you cross over into your sleeping life.
You may let go of my voice at any time and surrender to the reveries that beckon to you at any point in this mental escape.
Let go of any impressions of the day and imagine what it would feel like to fall into a downy pillow bed.
So plush and soft,
You playfully crash land as if you have landed on a cloud that surrounds the nooks and crannies of your tired body.
The bed hugs you,
Snugly and warm,
And you close your eyes.
You take in a deep breath in the very dark room that serves as your sanctuary for restorative sleep.
Your breath turns into a big yawn before you blow it out through your lips that are pursed as if blowing through a straw.
And then you inhale again,
Yawning without any judgement,
Making a sound if you like,
Before you exhale it through your pursed lips again.
Your exhalation is like a whistling wind blowing over the Hudson River on the cusp of winter.
Your breath is your vehicle and it transports you to the interior of a commuter rail train that runs northerly alongside the river.
The amber sun glows above the George Washington Bridge,
Casting it in the golden light of November.
This iconic bridge is a lifeline to the bustling city of New York,
Which you leave behind you as the urban mecca slowly disappears like a distant dream.
The train passes by the double-decker suspension bridge and you admire the cables that look like gilded strings of a harp.
This landmark is a line of demarcation and once past,
You feel the bustle of city life behind you and the beckoning of nature and the bucolic landscape that calls to you in upstate New York.
The rolling waters of the Hudson are like waves of molten copper that separate you from the sharp sandstone and smoky black cliffs of the Palisades.
The cliffs meet the shoreline on the other side of the waterway and are peppered with tufts of magenta,
Fiery red,
Tawny brown,
And pineapple yellow leaves of changing trees.
The conductor comes through the mostly unoccupied train and checks your ticket before you return to the meditative view.
You are in a New York state of mind.
You lose time in a trance state.
Watching as you pass by towns and the Tappanzee Bridge,
The sun lowers towards the purple gray mountainous landscape on the other side of the river and islands dot the waterway.
The sun is a fiery red orb that lowers to the edge of the horizon as a train pulls into your station and you rise to disembark.
You grab your weekender bag from the overhead storage and briskly walk towards the exit.
The doors open and you inhale the fragrant cold air.
It is many degrees colder than the city you left behind and you hug your arms around your autumn attire and sink your chin into your scarf.
You smell the sweet decaying leaves and the salty rich river bed of the Hudson.
Your nose tingles in the cold as you exhale in a contented sigh.
You inhale the smell of burning wood that peppers the air.
You look to the quiet parking lot of the small river town and note it is surrounded by vibrant leaves and hues of orange marmalade and maroon and deep eggplant and banana yellow.
They are dusted with a trace layer of snow like the powdery sugar atop a warm caramel donut.
The contrast in colors and pure snow is enchantingly beautiful.
This visual is like the sensation you feel of the crisp breeze off the river that is soothed by the warm rays of the setting sun.
You walk along the train's platform and descend the metal stairs as you balance your weekender bag on your shoulder.
You walk across the snow-dusted pavement of the parking lot and listen to the soft crunch beneath your feet as you search for the loved one you have come to visit.
It takes but a moment before you spot the car and see this dear friend leaning against the passenger's door,
Bundling against the breeze.
You meet each other's gaze as you both squint from the autumnal winds and the sun's last rays.
You feel your face erupt into a smile.
The sensation of being met at the train station is like no other and you recall all the memories over time that this person has been there for you.
Always reliable.
Always present.
Whenever you meet again,
You are on the edge of creating new memories that will last a lifetime.
You embrace,
Hugging each other tightly,
And feel the love and connection that is still alive.
It can be reactivated no matter how much time passes and no matter how much the world may change around you.
Your travel companion takes the bag from your shoulder,
Happy to assist,
And opens the car door for you.
You take a seat in the familiar vehicle where you have enjoyed numerous expeditions over time.
It smells exactly as it always has.
You close out the cold air when you shut the door and your friend settles in the driver's seat.
When the key turns in the ignition,
The car is filled with a familiar song that plays quietly and conjures layers of memories.
You glide across these sensations as you feel the tires of the car roll across the pavement and you sink into the heated passenger seat.
You lean your head against the cool glass of the window and your friend turns onto a highway that weaves like a black ribbon through a jewel-toned kaleidoscope of changing leaves.
As you journey towards the cabin,
The sun sets behind the trees and the sky is cast in multi-layered hues of lava red and orange sherbet and a wide expanse of marine blue.
Puffy silvery gray clouds are ahead in the distance as you continue on the quiet highway road,
Weaving around curves and bends.
A family of deer are eating dewy grass on the shoulder of the road that opens into a field dusted in snow.
The branches of the trees stand strong in spite of the surprise snowfall that tests their endurance.
A few flurries begin to fall and the flakes melt on the windshield of the car.
Your friend turns on the wipers and you listen to them softly squeak and patter.
The snow squall intensifies and you feel as if you are driving through a snow globe.
In the safe warmth of the car,
You observe the swirling white flakes that melt the moment they hit the glistening highway.
It is a magical experience to see fall's full glory met with the white purity of winter.
You see a mailbox ahead with your friend's name on it.
Without this marker,
You might miss the narrow driveway that weaves through the woods towards the quaint log cabin that awaits you both.
You listen to the click of the blinker and your friend signals out of habit more than necessity.
The car turns onto the driveway and slowly continues over the snow dusted stones.
The snow squall is illuminated by the headlights.
The shimmering white flakes swirl on the wind like choreographed ice skaters on a pond.
Pine trees run parallel on each side of the driveway like rows of Christmas trees and they are coated in a burgeoning white blanket.
The car parks outside the log cabin.
Rusty red the cabin gleams in the headlights like embers of a long burning fire.
The snow squall forms a series of mini cyclones and when you open the car door,
The snowflakes swarm around you.
You grab your bag from the back seat and close the door.
You and your companion stand outside for a moment,
Relishing the sensation of the flakes melting on your lips and face.
Tasting the clean snow,
It feels like it's the first time.
You are so moved by the surprise performance by Mother Nature.
You both laugh spontaneously,
Thinking of the many snowy adventures you have enjoyed together before.
You both stomp through the white coating in the yard.
Your footprints reveal tarnished pine needles and flattened grass in semi-soft earth that will soon be hard and frozen.
You smell the evergreen trees and fresh snow and their aromas remind you of Christmas and mountain hikes and camping adventures.
Your friend leads you up the wooden steps of the cabin and you pause on the porch where you have enjoyed summer holidays and many celebrations.
The railing is adorned with sparkling white Christmas lights that are kept up year round.
Things fall on the bulbs like opal glitter and twinkle in the lights.
You enter the cabin and run your hand along the textured log walls out of habit and relax in a feeling of warmth and familiarity.
The home is decorated for autumn with boughs of colored leaves running down the banister that leads to the loft.
Your companion hangs both of your coats and grabs a lighter off the ledge of the coat rack to light candles around the room.
You set your bag down on an end table and your friend's cat comes and rubs against your legs,
Sweetly purring.
This feels like your second home.
You are always welcome to treat it as your own,
Courtesy of this bond you have cultivated with your companion over time.
The angled ceilings are high and lofty and you see snow fall on the skylights.
The flickering candles fill the room with comforting fall fragrances of pecan pie and cinnamon and hazelnut.
There is a stone wall where the fireplace is tended to by your friend in a routine.
You go to the kitchen to prepare hot drinks.
While your friend lights kindling,
You enter the kitchen as if it is your own.
You fill a red ceramic kettle with water from the old fashioned sink and place it on the burner.
You watch as a blue flame erupts and begins to heat the water.
You remove two oversized turquoise mugs from the cupboard and place them on the cobalt tiled countertop.
You remember many times you held this mug,
Nestled in your two palms and enjoyed long and deep conversations through the years.
You remove a canister of hot cocoa and fill the mugs with a little extra,
Knowing how much you both prefer a thick,
Sweet and frothy beverage.
You go to the stainless steel fridge and take out a canister of whipped cream that is always reliably in stock in your friend's kitchen.
The water comes to a boil and you fill the mugs with whipped cream before pouring the hot water into them.
You take a spoon from a drawer and stir the frothy elixir,
Inhaling the sweet smelling steam that is reminiscent of the inside of a fine chocolates shop.
You top off the beverages,
Watching as the puffy whipped cream floats as easily on the steaming cocoa as a cloud in the sky.
You carry the two mugs by their handles to the living room.
The fire has grown and orange flames lick the soot marked bricks of the fireplace.
Your companion is nestled on the overstuffed sectional couch and you bring over the mug before finding a seat nearby.
You both wrap yourselves in crocheted blankets made by the loving hands of someone you both know,
And in tandem you sip the sweet hot chocolate,
Feeling the warmth flow down your throat,
Warming you from the inside out.
You look to the fire and listen as the wood crackles and pops,
And here as the snow continues to softly pelt against the log cabin and the windows overhead.
On the mantle you recognize a photo of the two of you from one of your greatest adventures together.
It takes center stage,
Much like your relationship has been at the forefront of the best and most challenging of experiences in this life.
And you see memories together,
Narrated by one another.
They play out on the glowing flames in the fireplace as if projected on a screen.
Your bond remains through time and you are comfortable to be all of yourself,
Letting your imperfections shine like the light of the fire.
You both finish your beverages and sink deeper into the sofa.
You run your fingers along the soft,
Worn yarn of the afghan and bring it beneath your chin.
You rest your head on an overstuffed chenille pillow that feels like a row of soft petals against your face.
You inhale the comforting aroma of burning wood and baking spice,
And your eyes turn towards your companion,
Basking in the glow of the fire.
You see you and your friend at various stages in life,
And for a moment you imagine when you are old,
Nestled again by the fire in the last chapter of a long,
Fulfilling life.
You float across these sensations of joy and vulnerability,
Just like the snowflakes of the squall surrender to the wind,
Floating towards the colorful leaves and landing upon them.
Your eyes become heavy as you sink into the couch and are carried by the warmth of the moment.
It feels like you are back as a child at a slumber party,
Drifting in and out of consciousness,
Saying one last thing,
Then hearing one last thing from your friend,
Along with the quiet heels of laughter as you both fight off sleep to savor this time,
The gentle percussive sound of snowflakes falling,
Accentuates the cracks and pops of the fireplace,
And you drift asleep,
Floating like a snowflake landing on a leaf as this colorful leaf breaks away from the tree and wafts on the night's breeze.
The full moon overhead illuminates the wooded area and the log cabin,
And you drift along beneath the moonbeams,
Smelling the crisp air,
Surrendering to the lure of sleep,
Feeling heavy as you imagine what it's like to be that leaf that falls on the snow-dusted ground,
Becoming one with the earth.
Drifting between this imaginative experience and the warmth and coziness of the cabin that conjures feelings of bliss as you fall asleep,
The cat jumps on the couch between you and your companion,
And you both stir slightly as she nestles and purrs.
The sounds of purring and the crackling fire bring you towards sleep,
And I am going to count you down to a night of hibernation and deeply restorative sleep.
Ten.
Nine.
Eight.
Seven.
Six.
Five.
Six.
Seven.
Eight.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
Finding enchantment.
Finding healing.
Finding sleep.
It's time to dream away.
It's time to dream away.
It's time to dream away.
It's time to dream away.
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It's time to dream away.
It's time to dream away.
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