The Ice Storm | Bedtime Story And Sleep Meditation

Fall asleep fast and relax deeply in tonight's bedtime story and guided sleep meditation.

You are listening to The Ice Storm.

In the sleep story for grownups,

You travel to a picturesque lakeside town in Vermont on the cusp of spring.

You take a peaceful walk in the woods and visit the local general store in anticipation of an ice storm on the way.

As the rain begins to fall,

You retreat to your cozy chalet and enjoy an afternoon nap by the fire.

At nightfall you step outside and walk through a sparkling icy wonderland with your beloved pet.

The world becomes a magical place in the silence of a frigid night.

You return to the cottage for a night of deep,

Healing sleep.

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 my voice as that of an encouraging friend and fellow adventurer.

I am here to empower you to connect with your limitless imagination.

You have the innate ability to self-soothe in the sacred time before bed.

Treat your bedtime routine as a daily vacation customized to your needs,

Safe in the sanctuary of your room and your mind.

You may spoil yourself with self-care and peace.

Listen in the way that works for you.

Enjoying a few deep breaths together or skipping ahead to the story,

Permit your body to be your guide as you surrender to what feels right.

And at any point you may let go of my voice and cross the bridge to your sleeping life and the peaceful dreams that await.

Nestle into your bed and wiggle and shake off the day.

All that doesn't serve you is cast away on the night air like glittering particles absorbed into the vast,

Infinite universe.

What's done is now behind you and you tune into the blissful,

Calming present moment.

Think of the times in your life you have longed for your comfortable bed and sleep.

And here you are.

So celebrate and feel gratitude for these simple comforts into the four walls of your room where you are free of judgement from others and may let go of self-judgment as well.

Close your tired eyes and shut out the world as you go deeper within.

Enjoy an exaggerated sigh and feel your belly sink.

Then sip in air through pursed lips or inhale through your nose.

You decide and recognize every molecule of oxygen you inhale will travel to the farthest corners of your body with a message.

You are safe.

You are at peace.

Open your mouth into a yawn,

Free of any guilt.

Every yawn signals to your body that it is time to stand down.

So sigh out the air in a deep release.

Take in an even deeper breath than your last.

Your belly and chest expand and your collar bones rise at the top of your breath.

Another delicious yawn arrives.

You can yawn all you want right now.

You may fake a yawn because this act of pretending will eventually prompt a natural yawn to follow.

Then exhale.

Sigh.

Let go.

Sinking deeper into the sheltered comforts of your room,

Feel heavy.

Feel the splendor of this precious experience.

It is simple yet lavish.

Simplicity may be the ultimate sophistication.

Bringing luxury in the forms of deep contentment and peace.

And with that in mind,

It is time for the story to begin.

A certain type of person seeks the bucolic appeal of Vermont in just the same.

Charming lakeside Vermont towns develop certain attributes in people.

It is a glorious region for souls in tune with beauty,

Connected with nature,

And appreciative of the ever-changing communities through the seasons.

The bitterness of winter brings hope for spring,

And the diverse weather of the northeast may swing from extremes.

But in these unpredictable changes,

One may find enhanced pleasure in comfort,

Warmth,

And getting cozy.

There may be times you take your home for granted,

Yet after a long journey,

The opening of the front door into your sanctuary is more sweet and blissful than ever before.

The sharpness of spending a day outside in biting winter winds makes a low-key night by the fire,

Euphoric and heavenly.

The contrasts in life find balance with intention,

Hope,

And awareness.

On a balmy March afternoon,

The promise of spring is in the air.

You walk through a path in the woods of a lakeside town in Vermont.

You have been here before,

And the familiarity of this walk is tranquilizing.

Yet this visit is different.

On the cusp of a new season,

Even as winter lurks with diminishing power,

The air is damp and cool,

But soft sunlight filters through the barren branches where tiny green buds will soon emerge and warms your face.

The forest floor is damp and mottled with clumps of melting snow from the last blizzard a week ago.

You feel quite warm in your puffer coat and unzip it to bask your chest in white gold rays of sunlight.

A soft trickling sound and staccato drips of melting snow falling from trees create a soundtrack with the sound of your boots as they land on the semi-soft earth.

The air is richly aromatized by smells of cedar and pine,

The sweet tobacco earth,

And the melting lake.

But every now and then,

A spontaneous gust of cold air warns of the looming drop in temperature on the way.

A part of you longs for a storm.

Nature's permission slips to hunker down and be still.

How silly it is that the modern world often needs to be forced into a slowdown.

And an ice storm will bring all of Vermont a night for slowing down and doing nothing.

In a month's time,

A vibrant rainbow of wildflowers will pop up and sprout between wet decaying leaves that will become one with the soil.

The lakeside vacation cottages will be reopened in anticipation of summer.

And a cross breeze of crisp spring air will stir the dust of winter in the homes.

But for now,

You exist in the delicious in-between of seasons.

The village is even sleepier now than during winter's peak,

When ice festivals and skiing bring an uptick in visitors.

You come to a tree hollow that was this winter's drop-off point for food scraps and treats you left for the animals of the forest.

Your spirit animal,

A sly red fox,

Has often followed you on these walks and observed from afar.

Birds sing out into the sunny afternoon to celebrate the warm reprieve.

You come to a rust brown cabin that has been the home of the local general store for nearly a century.

You find great joy in the walk through the woods and daily interactions with the kind owners Martha and Ike.

Each year,

The married couple gets a little slower and more methodical in their bodies.

They vow each spring that they have one more summer in them before they pass off the business to their kids or sell it.

But in truth,

The general store gives them purpose.

Martha and Ike are the heart and soul of the town.

Sometimes travelers go out of their way to stop by the general store to try one of Martha's daily specials.

You walk past a life-sized wooden bear statue that stands guard at the front door with a sign that reads General Store.

Often the bear is wet from dripping and melting snow that forms a pool of water at its feet.

Come nightfall,

The puddle will become a slick skating pond for all the small animal inhabitants of the woods.

You open the front door and a tiny silver bell rings to alert your arrival.

Martha and Ike maintain anyone walking through the shop are to be treated like family.

Every time the bell rings,

It serves as a musical reminder that another friend has been welcomed into a home away from home.

The first time you met Ike,

He regaled you with stories of life on a lake.

One hand can dip into that chilly water and create a ripple that spans the whole darn lake.

That should be a heads up to everyone on this earth that our actions affect others.

You can spend your whole life complaining about the way things are and judging others.

Or you can bring some good into this world,

Ike explained.

Martha piped in.

That's why I married this man.

Heart of gold.

If you're going to create a ripple,

Make it a good one.

The store is quiet but for a teenage boy David who stocks the shelves.

Martha and Ike are behind the counter playing gin rummy when you walk in.

Martha stands immediately ready to help and greets you by name.

You would ask who's winning by the stack of prepackaged saltine crackers they use for gambling.

You see that Martha's pile is high enough to topple over.

The store smells of hot soup,

Freshly baked bread,

And a sweet woodsy aroma that is ubiquitous in the older lakeside cabins.

You chat about the weather,

Which Martha insists will take us all by surprise.

She can feel it in her bones.

The pressure change is on the way.

You trust her more than any weather forecast out there,

And so does Ike.

You peer through the rustic frames of the multi-paint windows to see purple bellied storm clouds rolling in quickly.

Pine cones and pebbles blow across the pathway to the general store as the wind picks up.

Martha's eyes sparkle mischievously.

For a moment you wonder if this woman is the conductor for Mother Nature's Orchestra.

The radio plays softly in the background,

An old Jimmy Durante song that goes back to when Martha and Ike went to their first prom.

There are times you've walked into the store before closing and seen them dancing together through the aisles stocked with household essentials and pantry items.

One time Ike even grabbed the mop handle and sang into it,

Wooing Martha with his gravelly tenor voice.

You felt as if you were walking in on an intimate moment,

But when they saw you they smiled and waved you into the store.

Family,

Friends,

Anyone who walked in was welcome to see these old lovebirds act out the song and dance that allowed their marriage and business to weather every storm.

You order soup and your favorite hot sandwich,

And Martha assembles it with a loaf of fresh peasant bread that she taught Ike how to bake.

A golden crust glistens as Martha fills it with your selected items.

Ike steals a handful of packaged saltines from Martha's winnings and throws them in the bag with your soup.

In the corner of her eye,

Martha notices and jokes that he can give away the whole pile,

But she still is going to beat him at cards.

Martha grabs a sweet dessert that she says is on the house.

Everyone deserves something sweet on a stormy day.

The first pelts of rain fall onto the earth and patter on the roof and window panes.

You've forgotten an umbrella,

And Martha notices.

She tells Ike to gather one from a bin of forgotten umbrellas collected over the years.

You promised to return it tomorrow,

But Martha says her hunch is the ice storm will shut them down and not to worry about it.

They charge your purchases to your account and you wish them a safe night and head out into the rain.

It pelts against the umbrella.

She walks across the highway to take a quicker route home along the lake.

The lake is a muted kaleidoscope of gray,

White,

And turquoise chunks of ice that become slick and glossy in the rain.

The first major thaw of the season is soon to be interrupted by the brisk change in the air.

Charcoal gray blooms of smoke shoot out of a handful of chimneys of the occupied lakeshore cottages.

The smell is soothing.

The thick rubber soles of your boots carefully balance on the thin layer of ice that forms on the green,

Blue,

And tawny brown pebbles of the beach.

The force of the blustering wind against your back is like a person pushing you home.

You are grateful to be walking in a favorable direction and you position the umbrella at an angle to withstand the gusts.

You arrive at the secluded beach outside your chalet and carefully walk on the wet stairs to the cottage.

The wind whistles,

The shifting ice on the lake crackles,

And you take in a deep breath.

The air condenses in a gauzy white cloud as you exhale.

The cold dampness makes you feel alive.

Your face and fingers tingle,

Your nose is numb,

And you feel the cold air on your teeth.

It makes you feel alive.

All your thoughts and judgments of the world are silenced by the reality of the storm.

It brings you into the now.

Nothing exists beyond this very moment as you ascend the hill carefully to enter your chalet.

Tiny icicles dangle from the dark wooden eaves and grow by the minute,

Drip by drip.

The vibrantly painted shutters offer pops of color in the dreary grayness of the afternoon.

The back of the chalet faces the lake.

Oh all of glass windows that give you the perfect vantage point from the comforts of your living room.

You count the steps as you ascend,

As a way of being methodical and careful.

Coated with rough salt crystals that you scattered before leaving home,

Your boots easily and safely find their grip.

1,

2,

3,

4,

5,

6,

Climbing the steps one at a time.

The freezing rain continues to patter on the umbrella that keeps you and your general store staples dry.

7,

8,

9,

10,

11,

12.

You arrive at the deck and brush off the thin layer of ice that has formed on the handles of the French doors.

Your pet is seated patiently at the entry and their tail dusts the floor in excitement wagging back and forth.

A rush of warm air from the chalet welcomes you with the aroma of home and cranberry spice candles that you purchased at the local village holiday festival.

You set down the paper bag and remove your boots.

Tiny golden fairy lights that hang across overhead wooden beams cast the interior of the rustic chalet in charm and dreamy light.

The lights remain in use beyond the holiday season until the daylight hours lengthen and warmer weather returns because they inspire hope.

And as you remove your boots,

Your pet pushes their furry head between your arms and knocks you off balance.

You can manage the treacherous landscape brought on by the storm,

But your pet is the one who causes you to softly land on the welcome mat as you fall.

You laugh and ruffle their fur before they charge through the dining area.

You slip your feet into a pair of slippers and take off your outerwear and lean the umbrella against the French doors to dry.

The air is warm even before you fire up the wood stove and it will not take long before the water droplets evaporate off your wet items.

The interior design of the chalet is an expression of your inner sanctuary.

It showcases mementos,

Colors,

And artwork that enliven your most beloved memories.

The chalet is a healing pod,

A lakeside refuge that rebuilds you with reminders of who you are and who you wish to be.

As the freezing rain comes down harder and a thick layer of ice coats the village,

You relish being dry and warm indoors.

Goosebumps of delight form on your skin,

Your entire being awash with serene waves of gratitude and peace.

Your pet sniffs at your grocery bag and you remove it from the floor to unpack it on the kitchen counter.

You discover a hidden surprise,

A homemade pet biscuit that Martha slipped into the bag next to your sweet dessert.

Sometimes you and your furry friend walk to the store together.

Your pet is always excited at the sound of Martha's voice,

Knowing that treats are soon to follow and gentle pets from her loving hands.

You instruct your pet to stay and once they do,

You hand over the treat to watch them race to their bed near the wood stove.

You follow behind and ignite the dry kindling and logs within the stove.

The wood begins to crackle and pop and splinter.

You close the creaking cast iron door.

Your face and fingers have regained feeling.

You pause for a moment to watch the hypnotic flames dance within the stove.

Rain pelts on the ice that covers the skylights.

The room is dark but for the amber glow of the fire and twinkling ivory fairy lights.

You go to the kitchen to grab your lunch and bring the bag to a handcrafted oak coffee table.

Your pet sniffs at the air as the savory smell of your soup travels across the room.

Their attention returns to their biscuit as you savor each spoonful of soup and bite of your sandwich.

Each bite reminds you of the love Martha and Ike put into their general store,

Welcoming every soul to cross through the door.

They are the family and life that you choose because they care about your needs,

Just as you care about theirs.

Like two comforting walls of heat,

Your meal warms you on the inside and the wood stove warmed air of the chalet warms you externally.

Your head rests back on oversized throw pillows collected through the years.

The fabrics vary from velvet to satin,

Plush and inviting.

You cover yourself with a crocheted chenille throw blanket as your pet hops onto the sofa and curls up at your feet.

The freezing rain continues to coat the chalet as you drift into a nap.

The ice forms like a protective layer and you lucid dream that you are contained with a protective snow globe.

The glass windows of the chalet look out onto the icy landscape and you float between the present moment and dreams of a world made of glassy ice.

The crackling fire brings you in and out of consciousness.

You are not sure how much time has passed,

But when you awaken from the nap,

The storm has ended.

Your pet stirs as you rise to walk to the French doors.

You discover an icy world.

In mere hours the landscape has changed completely.

The lake is glassy and still,

Frozen solid.

The delicate tree branches and twigs have doubled in size from the fresh coating of ice.

Your pet joins you in stretches,

Pawing at the door to go out for a walk.

You put a jacket on them and bundle yourself for the cold.

The winds have died down and when you step out onto the deck,

The world is silent but for a soft rattle of the icy branches.

The air smells of wood smoke and a metallic whiff of rain and snow.

Take in a deep breath and the cool air purifies you.

A waxing gibbous moon glows over the lake and casts the icy landscape in shimmering silver light.

Everything in sight is covered in ice and twinkles.

The pristine ice refracts moonbeams and tiny moonbows form on ice coated blades of honey-hued winter grass.

The barren trees surrender to the weight of the ice as if bowing in respect to mother nature.

The lush tree tops of evergreens arc towards the lake like a crescent moon.

The outside world is like a fairy tale coming to life.

You and your pet cautiously walk down the stairs towards the frozen earth.

It crunches beneath your feet and your furry pal is confused and cautiously lifts each paw.

You cheer them on,

Overcome by a feeling of excitement and splendor on this magical night.

They follow your enthusiasm and race across the icy grass,

Slipping and regaining balance again and again.

You look back at the chalet and just like in your dream,

The brown wood is icy blue beneath the indigo sky as if made of glass.

Icicles drop down from the eaves as thick as carrots plucked from a garden in summer.

Their ridges are silvery blue instead of orange,

Reflecting moonlight.

You carefully walk towards the lake and ice covered dock.

An owl hoots and you imagine it is the white owl you saw on a winter's walk that long ago.

The song carries across the lake and reverberates off the ice in a sound as crisp as the air.

In the stillness,

The temperature is comfortable while bundled.

The whipping winds have disappeared and come morning the world will thaw as spring presses on.

You long to capture this moment,

Every sensation a reminder of the diverse beauty to be found in this season on this ever changing planet.

You and your pet stand as dark silhouettes against the icy blue lake.

The soul witnesses to the splendor.

You think of Martha and Ike nestled in their cottage.

You think of all the enthusiastic souls that will return in spring,

Having missed out on this sacred moment on the lake.

In a world so populated,

It's hard to imagine that it is just you.

Prepare to witness this beauty,

Take in a deep breath and prepare to return to the chalet to sleep the night away.

Hours have passed and you need to return to your warm quarters just before midnight.

You and your pet climb the stairs to the loft where you often sleep on winter nights.

You change into warm flannel pajamas and climb beneath crisp cotton sheets and a downy comforter that is heavy and smells of fresh laundry.

Your beloved animal settles at the end of the bed.

They are your most reliable foot warmer.

You sink your head into the pillows and your mind rewinds through all the pleasurable sensations that accompanied the day.

Heightened by the looming storm and cold,

Damp air,

You remember the hot soup,

The burning embers of the wood stove,

The nuzzling head of your pet.

The warm rush of air when you entered the general store and your chalet sanctuary.

A stack of oversized pillows that brought you to lucid dreams.

The cotton sheets that balance softness and the slightest friction that helps you settle into the bed.

You drift between worlds.

Your waking and sleeping life.

You are in a dreamy haze of contentment.

Just floating,

Drifting,

And imagining what it would feel like to soar across the lake beneath the moon.

Your scarf flying on the wind as you skate across the icy turquoise lake beneath the ice coated branches that twinkle like silvery blue fairy lights.

You glide with pure elation.

Your spirit soars and you are free to be formless and travel where your dreams lead you.

Cast in the moonlight,

You skate and balance on the ice and are joined by your best animal friend.

They are like your shadow in this dream within a dream.

And as you skate your way to sleep,

I am going to count you down towards a night of healing and restoration where you may enjoy the limitless,

Soothing display of sensations your dreaming life has to offer.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

Six.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

Finding peace.

Finding bliss.

Finding sleep.

It's time to dream away.

Good night.