The Feather Cottage: An Immersive Fairy Tale For Sleep

Find a soft place to land and rest with tonight's cozy bedtime story for grown-ups.

You are tuning in to The Feather Cottage,

An immersive fairy tale set in a medieval village.

Follow the journey of Brielle,

A young princess who escapes the restrictions of the palace to create a dreamy cottage of feathers in the heart of the woods.

Explore the beautiful landscape at the peak of spring,

Spending a night in her cozy cottage by the stream.

It's time to dream away.

Welcome to Michelle's Sanctuary.

I am Michelle and as you listen,

Feel free to imagine my voice is that of a maternal guide who will put distance between the day behind you and set the tone for the night as it unfolds.

Luxuriate in this sacred time for you.

No matter where in space or when in time,

Sleep has been a cherished and well-deserved gift that the body needs to restore itself.

No detail in this practice is rigid or required.

And you may customize and change any aspect to better suit your current mood.

Feel the freedom to drift to sleep whenever it beckons.

As we embark on a brief meditation,

Welcome everything that offers a feeling of softness right now.

The sound waves of my voice as they invite your mind and breath to slow down.

The softness of the air on your skin as you take in the nocturnal magic that permeates your room.

The softness of your bed as it supports you in this sanctuary for dreaming.

The softness of your thoughts as you intentionally shift them towards images of feathers and cherry blossoms floating on a delicate breeze to land on the fresh,

Pillowy grass of a new spring season.

Let out a big sigh,

Making a sound as all tension escapes on this generous exhalation.

Sink into the comforts of your bed.

When you are ready,

Inhale.

Imagining the air in your room takes on the fragrant notes of moonlit evening dew and spring wildflowers.

Feel light as you expand,

Fading into the delicate softness that comes with a promise of sleep.

Continue twice more at your own pace,

Deepening each breath but not pushing,

Accepting where you are right now.

You may even yawn once or twice,

Taking full advantage of a time when you can be as sleepy and lazy and languid as you want right now.

When you are ready,

Let your breath resume an easy,

Gentle rhythm.

And in a state of peace,

It's time for the story to begin.

Some people go their entire lives programmed from birth,

Accepting what is told to them at an early age as the only truth.

They judge anyone who doesn't follow the same path they were put on.

Questions and curiosity terrify or confuse them,

And there is nothing safer than the status quo.

But as we all know,

At some point,

Every soul is at the mercy of unavoidable change.

And the more one resists change,

The more difficult it becomes as the changes persist.

We have the choice to find comfort in the discomfort and may either adapt or give in to the unsettled feeling taking away its power to rule us.

Sometimes,

These moments of change draw those narrow-minded souls simply grasping to survive deeper into their beliefs,

As they long to feel safe once more.

But then there are the brave souls like Brielle,

People who are seemingly born into everything coveted by others.

From an outsider,

The status quo for these lucky members of the royal class takes on a fairytale charm.

But the reality is never quite as it seems.

Brielle was born with a proverbial golden spoon in her mouth.

Parties were hosted to celebrate her arrival,

Albeit they were a bit forced,

As she was the disappointing fourth daughter to a king who yearned for a son.

Nevertheless,

This new princess was different somehow,

And the villagers sensed it.

From an early age,

She became someone they projected their dreams upon.

Her gleaming eyes and sweet disposition warmed the hearts of many at a time when the village needed an installation of hope.

As Brielle grew into a young lady,

The stone castle walls felt as though they were caving in.

There was an austerity and coldness to the medieval palace.

No matter how many layers of fabric she donned or fires she fanned,

The damp chill remained in her bones.

She was drawn to the softness of the world outside.

She spent nights dreaming about the robin's nest,

Outside the windows of her stonewalled suite,

Wishing she could swap lives with the chirping chicks.

She collected feathers on her long walks in the nearby woods and through the castle garden,

Filling her suite with a diverse array.

Such a simple obsession,

The villagers would forage for unique feathers as well,

Bringing them as offerings to the young,

Precocious princess,

Who would sneak away from the castle grounds at the age of eight and explore the village on her own.

She was drawn to the simple thatched roofs and warm fires of the tiny cottages that roared within,

Casting the walls in honeyed light.

Nobody quite understood her attraction to their modest dwellings,

As their only access to the castle came on ceremonious gatherings,

When the ballroom and halls were alight with merry candles and regal attire.

Day-to-day living in the castle was dreary,

The walls serving as a great divide between Brielle and nature,

And so she spent her free time dreaming,

Drawing ethereal sketches of a cottage made of feathers.

She imagined herself living in a sacred nest deep within the woods by a babbling stream.

Were she not a member of royalty,

The locals she consulted for ideas would have laughed in her face when she spoke about her designs for a feather house.

Only the poorest members of the village would scrap together straw,

Twigs,

And clay to build their lackluster dwellings,

But whatever doubts were cast her way,

Her defiant spirit prevailed.

Once a younger brother was at last born,

All attention went to him,

And she was oft forgotten.

As childhood faded into the dawning of adulthood,

Suitors would arrive at the castle.

One well-traveled prince attempted to woo Brielle with a pair of peacocks delivered to the palace door,

And while it wasn't enough to win her affection,

Her gratitude for the beautiful birds could not be greater.

Her mother recognized there was something unique about Brielle,

And rather than sentence her to a life she didn't want,

She gave her one of the rarest gifts a mother could give at the time.

The freedom to choose her destiny,

And her father,

Far more concerned with his eldest daughter and his son's aspirations,

Simply agreed and let her go.

Brielle's dreams became reality as she secured a small parcel of land near a stream.

Far beyond the influence of the castle,

Set in a clearing in the woods,

Visions of her new life danced in her dreams,

And brought warm feelings that she had never felt before.

She exchanged her jewels for help and supplies,

Building a modest cottage near the pristine babbling water.

She succumbed to the influence of some wise builders,

Deciding to use stones for the foundation,

Acquiescing that the vision for her feather cottage would be reflected in the interior design.

The thatched roof added a touch of softness,

As did the tall,

Dampest grass that grew around the clearing.

From her years of collecting feathers,

She fashioned tufts of soft down into pillows and mattresses,

Cushions and rugs.

Every inch of the cottage was inspired by heavenly softness,

Enlivened by pastel hues and the artistic incorporation of feathery items she foraged in nature.

Upon entering the cottage,

One would be welcomed by urns containing ivory,

Feathery grass and plush rugs underfoot.

Woven,

Fluffy plumage was in every corner.

The wooden cabinets and shelves were painted ivory,

With gold feathery designs and whimsical scrolls.

Brielle's cottage was a haven for small furry animals,

Many she rescued on her morning walks along the stream.

And while she was completely disinterested and disengaged from the social comings and goings at the palace,

She was far from being a shut-in and welcomed travelers from near and far who,

Like her,

Needed to reconnect with the softness in the world.

And on one fortunate spring afternoon,

You find yourself in the heart of the nearby village.

Invited to enjoy a restorative escape,

Brielle's feather cottage,

You wander along the paved dirt roads of the village,

Passing half-timbered homes with chocolate brown shutters and gabled roofs.

Flower baskets hang from windows,

Overflowing with bright pink,

Lavender,

Baby blue,

And yellow flowers.

It's the first sunny day in a string of April showers,

And it brings out the villagers in droves as they happily tend to their errands and martyr at the open-air marketplace.

They welcome you with smiles and nods.

Sensing you've come from far away,

Their eyes pour over you curiously,

Even though you are sensibly dressed for the times and aim to fit in.

The afternoon sun washes the village in ethereal,

Sparkling gold light.

More opulent and awe-inspiring than the greatest jewels in the castle,

The intoxicating smell of fresh loaves of bread lingers from the morning,

Mingling with the sweet,

Rich aromas of the damp,

Fertile earth and blooming flowers.

In the heart of the village,

You discover a map on a rustic wooden board attached to two polished logs sticking out of the earth,

Surrounded by daisies.

The village roads and names of popular landmarks and dwellings are burned into the wood by the art of pyrography.

You trace the etched route to the woods that leads to a stream that will in turn deliver you to the feather cottage.

The rich,

Reddish-brown grains of the wood map tell a story of their own,

Smoothed by an artisan's precision,

Weather,

And time.

Villagers continue to pass as you weave your way to the outskirts of the bustling center,

Noticing how the homes become more sparse.

The castle grounds loom to the left,

The steely,

Gray-blue fortress that remains untouched by the sun as clouds linger overhead.

The first butterflies of the season hover over the meadows of tall grass,

Bluebells,

Forget-me-nots,

And dandelions that merge with the forest.

You instantly notice the change in the ground,

Welcoming the cushion of the grass and damp earth.

As you approach the abundant stream that circles the village and carves a path through the woods,

You feel whisked away into a painting come to life brimming with a rainbow of colors that offer nature's finest and brightest palette.

The air,

Warm in the sun and cool in the shade,

Offers a constant change in temperatures with a subtle shift of the breeze.

Every sensation is pleasant,

The warmth and coolness continuously balancing one another.

You inhale the perfume of blossoms and the flinty smell of wet stones that line the stream.

Despite the heavy linen garments you wear,

There's a feeling of weightlessness and ease as the damp ground meets each step with a bounciness.

In the meadows,

Life stirs with a vibrancy as old as the hills.

Birds,

Their plumage a riot of colors against the backdrop of greenery,

Sing with a fervor.

Their songs rise and fall like waves upon the wind,

Pledging their allegiance to this perfect day.

Approaching the forest,

You're greeted by the familiar rush of the gushing stream,

Its waters cascading over moss-covered rocks like glittering sapphires.

The soundtrack the soundtrack,

A constant companion on your track,

Is a melody of blue and silver,

A shimmering symphony that echoes through the enchanting woods and fills your heart with a sense of wonder.

Stepping into the cool shade of the forest,

The world transforms into lush rustling greenery and shadowy depths.

Conifers sway overhead as if reaching to sweep away the clouds in the sky,

Occasionally dropping pine cones onto earth's tapestry of emerald moss,

Fallen copper leaves,

And iridescent jagged stones.

Sunlight filters through the dense canopy,

Casting dappled patterns of white gold into finger-like shadows upon the forest floor.

The scents of pine and cedar hang heavy in the air,

Mingling with the fresh water mist rising from the stream.

On the forest floor,

Mushrooms emerge from the rich soil,

Like scarlet and yellow topaz gemstones scattered in miniature villages around the exposed roots of ancient trees.

The trees stand as sentinels,

With hollows that support sleeping baby raccoons and chipmunks.

Each step brings you deeper into the woods,

And you use the stream as a guide.

Fish breach the prismatic ripples,

Landing in ungraceful splashes.

Plump jade green frogs leap from rock to rock with varying speeds and rhythms.

They offer croaks with different timbres and tones,

Joining the susurrations of the trees and the persistent gurgles of the stream.

The childlike part of you instantly identifies with a frog that most reflects your temperament.

You pause for a moment to take it in,

Feeling as the sun lands on your face,

And you smile.

Brielle's desire to escape the castle grounds is more evident the more you explore.

Something about this timeless forest feels like a dream.

Familiar and soothing.

Filling your soul with a sense of wonder and gratitude.

This natural landscape transcends the boundaries of time.

And while you know you have been transported to another place in history,

The forest feels ageless and enduring.

Yet when you close your eyes,

The intuitive parts of you recognize that this world is different.

You feel less pressure.

There's a purity to the soundtrack of a forest,

Uninterrupted by the distant hum of electricity.

And the sounds of planes flying overhead.

The differences are subtle at first,

But the more you attune yourself to the woodlands,

The more soothing these differences become.

Everything seems less heavy,

More harmonious.

There's a vital connection to nature and survival that fills the days with a sense of purpose and meaning in the most mundane tasks.

With this in mind,

You come upon the clearing in the woods and witness the peacocks frolicking before the feather cottage.

The male peacock extends his train fully,

Aiming to garner attention from the peahen,

Whose iridescent shades of greens and blues are more subdued than her suitors.

Coupled swans and ducks leisurely float on a pond just beyond the cottage.

You see Brielle in her garden,

Tending to lush hyacinths.

The perfume emanating from their purple-blue clusters overpowers all the aromas in the forest,

With a sweet and spicy aroma that is ethereal yet robust.

Bright white and soft pink cherry blossom trees in their full glory stand on each side of the cottage,

Their soft petals gently raining onto the earth.

Brielle's hair flows down her back,

The crown of her head wrapped in a braid with small pieces of baby's breath scattered throughout.

She moves with a delicate grace imparted by her years at the castle.

Symphony,

A white long-haired cat with a single black marking in the shape of a heart just above her feathery tail,

Lounges carelessly in a patch of sunlight by the edge of the garden.

Celestia,

A medium-sized terrier,

Runs to greet you,

Circling your feet in a happy yet protective way.

As Brielle turns to face you,

She walks toward you with a smile,

Her shiny hair reflecting sunlight in a halo of light around her.

She offers a hug,

The smell of hyacinth lingering on her fingers as you embrace.

She invites you into her cottage.

Fluffy white feathers surround the peachy pink shutters and multi-painted windows with gold painted wooden grills.

Window boxes overflow with purple heather.

The feathery flowers are also fashioned into a wreath hung above the bronze feather-shaped knocker on the front door.

Brielle's skirt glides across the earth as she leads you to the entrance of the feather cottage.

The sun lowers toward the horizon,

Pouring through the windows to cast the room in rich orange gold light.

Everything about the cottage inspires a sense of softness.

Brielle invites you to remove your shoes and offers a pair of fluffy slippers to put on as the cat and dog trail into the cottage behind you.

Brielle changes into slippers as well and then tends to a small fire in the hearth,

Adding two logs and stoking it as the flames grow.

The evenings still become quite cool after sunset and since leaving the cold dark castle,

Brielle always keeps her cottage toasty and cozy.

A series of nests sit on the mantle,

Transformed into baskets for dried lavender and roses placed atop feathers collected from bluejays,

Cardinals,

And white doves.

A harp sits in the corner of the room,

Beneath a canopy of peacock feathers hung in boughs from the exposed beams in the ceiling.

The table is set for dinner and Brielle invites you to settle into a feathery chair that is so soft that it molds around every nook of your body.

As you settle,

The efforts of your journey are felt in your tired muscles as you stifle a yawn.

But Brielle catches it and tells you to yawn all you want.

This is a home and when someone feels at home,

It's normal to let down your guard and feel sleepier and more relaxed than normal.

It's a sign that you feel safe,

She insists.

She feeds her pets first and then comes over to pour a hot botanical tea into your cup.

Notes of honey,

Vanilla,

Chamomile,

And cinnamon travel on the steam that rises towards you.

She then serves you a steaming bowl of an herbaceous stew,

Full of nutrients and vegetables with healing properties.

Once done,

She serves a coffin pastry,

A popular pie of the times.

It's buttery stand-alone crust filled with stewed fruit and cloves concealed beneath the crispy golden top that you break into.

The meal is unexpectedly pleasant and satiating,

Familiar yet unusual at the same time.

As nightfall arrives,

Brielle lights the candles in the candelabra and atop the mantle.

As she explains how long ago,

She feared the darkness of night.

But in the feather cottage,

She longs for the nocturnal sounds of the moonlit stream and forest as they give the perfect backdrop to truly appreciate the coziness of her home.

You assist in cleaning up after the meal,

Languidly and not in a rush.

Symphony and Celestia intertwine in a furry ball atop a feather pillow near the fireplace.

Brielle sits on a stool by the harp and begins to play.

The slow,

Simple melody joins the crackles and pops of the fire,

The muted babbling sounds of the stream and the distant hooting of owls.

You settle into a plush armchair,

Reveling in the softness of the music and the night.

Your gaze dreamily explores the tiny details of the room,

The hidden places where soft feathers lurk,

Arranged in artistic designs and in a tapestry on the wall.

A swan feather pen rests in a tiny jar of ink atop a hand-carved wooden desk with feather designs.

Brielle plays another song.

Slower and even more enchanting causes your eyes to gently close.

You find yourself drifting to sleep,

Feeling so safe and comfortable.

The song ends and the melody is replaced with a gentle rustle of her dress as she approaches you and softly touches your hand.

Your eyes flutter open to see her.

She grasps your fingers,

Leading you to the guest room.

Moonlight pours through the windows.

Brielle starts a fire with impressive speed.

Ivory cotton bedclothes rest atop the feather mattress,

Folded neatly with crisp corners and a small basin of rose water is placed atop a table by the window for you to cleanse yourself of your travels.

Brielle wishes you good night before disappearing into her adjacent room.

You freshen up and change into the pajamas that smell of lavender and hyacinth.

As you settle,

A sense of serenity washes over you as gently as the spring breeze rustling through the meadows this afternoon.

The swan motif of the guest room is elegantly expressed with a headboard crafted from swan feathers.

Each delicate plume arranged to form a half circle that rises from the feather bed.

They create an angelic backdrop against the rough hewn stone walls.

Their snowy white hue standing out in stark contrast to the gray stones.

Vases of feathers adorn every available surface.

Their pristine white and ivory tones catching the soft flashes of flickering firelight.

Each shimmering feather fills the room with a sense of otherworldly beauty.

As you run your fingers over their silky smoothness,

You can't help but be mesmerized by their delicate intricacy and the sense of peace they evoke.

You pull back the feather-filled quilt and settle in the mattress,

Appreciating the commitment and love that went into collecting these feathers over many years and giving them a second life.

For Brielle,

They held within them the promise of a brighter tomorrow,

A reminder to find the softness in the hardest of times.

The swans,

In particular,

Served as an inspiration for her own transformation and growth.

And by being a guest in the feather cottage,

She wishes the same for you.

Even when that means going your own way and forging a path no one expected for you.

Your head sinks into the feather pillows,

Surrounded by the soft embrace of swan feathers,

The gentle moon glow and romantic firelight as a sense of peace washes over you.

Cocooned in the cozy warmth of the room,

You melt into the softness.

Every part of your body,

From crown to soul,

Welcomes a sense of lightness and ease.

Drifting,

Floating like a feather that surrenders to the night breeze,

You waft on the currents of the night as they deliver you to slumber,

Finding serenity,

Finding hope,

Finding bliss,

Finding sleep.

It's time to dream away.

Good night.