Winter Festival In Sugar Hollow: Sleep Meditation Story

Fall into a deep sleep with this calm bedtime story for grown-ups.

You are listening to Winter Festival in Sugar Hollow.

Return to the cozy village of Sugar Hollow,

A magical place in New England where anything is possible.

You travel with a small child and experience the magic of winter's spell through their eyes.

After a sleigh ride,

You skate together on an icy blue pond near the village square as snow begins to fall.

When the storm intensifies,

You find respite in a cozy bed and breakfast on Main Street.

The winter wind howls outside the windows,

And you fall asleep to the sounds of a crackling fire.

It's time to dream away.

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

I am Michelle and as you listen,

You may think of my voice as that of your dear friend and guide.

In the sanctuary,

You may feel the most relaxed and safest that you have felt all day.

I am here to help you remember the healing powers of your imagination.

This is your time to shut out the world and to go places deep within you without any judgment.

Use this time to relax and celebrate that you have made it through another day.

Customize this experience in any way that works best for you.

You may skip ahead of the breathing practice and meditation if that's your preference,

And you may fall asleep at any point.

Remember you are in charge of what happens tonight.

Wiggle and settle into the comforts of your bed.

Open your mouth and enjoy a big yawn.

Let the air cascade out in an easy sigh.

You are free to yawn and sigh all that you desire.

Signal to your body it's time to let down your guard and snuggle up.

Take in the deepest,

Fullest breath that you have taken all day.

Feel your body rise as if you could float across a starry winter sky.

Open your mouth into one more delicious sleepy yawn and then sigh.

Let it all out.

Make a sound and simply let go.

Take in one more conscious breath,

Sending cleansing air to the deepest parts of your abdomen and know that this oxygen is here to help you heal and feel good.

Blow out your exhalation through pursed lips as if blowing through a straw.

Your exhalation becomes a magical breeze.

You are suddenly inside the passenger car of a train that travels through a cold black sky illuminated by more stars than you could count in this lifetime.

The train travels through time and space without tracks,

Free to weave about the celestial sky without gravity.

This trackless train inspires you to feel free and untethered to the responsibilities of life and the modern world.

Those constructs have no place on this journey meant for fluidity.

There is another traveler on this train,

A small child that sits diagonally across from you looking out the window.

You see their silhouette when the train conductor approaches,

Dressed in a vintage uniform from an era you revere.

The conductor asks where you would like to go,

And before you even think the words,

They spell out from your mouth.

Take me back to Sugar Hollow.

Sugar Hollow is a historic village in the heart of New England.

Come this wintry,

Festive time of year,

The scenes and mood of the village are charming enough to find their way on the front of a holiday card.

The centuries old village is nestled in the valley of mountains and surrounded by rolling hills now coated with a layer of fresh white snow.

The folklore of Sugar Hollow is steeped in magic,

Rife with unexplainable events.

From an aerial view,

The village has a shimmering golden glow that illuminates the darkest of nights.

Come December each year,

The mysterious and healing glow is enhanced by colorful holiday lights strung through the village,

Decorating cottages and sprawling Victorian mansions.

Dressed in warm winter attire,

With a handknit scarf bought from a past Sugar Hollow festival,

You find yourself surrounded by happy souls enjoying the season on the main drag.

The village is full of artists and creative types,

Led by dreamers with small businesses and generations of those practicing the healing arts.

You can feel the soul of the town and with each return,

It feels as though you have never left.

Your boots crunch on the sparkling snow that coats the cobblestone sidewalk of Main Street.

Curiously,

You recognize the same child that appeared on the train.

They are walking towards you,

And their mouth opens in a joyous smile.

Snowflakes land on their eyelashes as they look up to you,

And you see this is a younger version of yourself.

In this loving flash of recognition,

You suddenly know you are meant to attend the festival together.

This is your opportunity to shower the child in you with all the love and holiday experiences you may have longed for at some time in your youth,

Or perhaps as an adult.

It's a special day to do everything the way you would have wanted.

Your childlike self clutches your hand with their wool-mitten grasp,

And with the spirit of Saint Nicholas,

You guide them towards the heart of the village.

You walk by a cafe that has an outdoor kiosk for the day's festivities.

The young barista recognizes you from prior journeys and welcomes you back.

You order two sweet and decadent hot beverages,

Layered with whipped cream that rises like foamy crests of a wave.

Once the whipped cream is stirred,

Steam from the soothing elixir swirls into the cold air like wispy clouds.

The irresistible aroma joins the fragrance of snow and fresh evergreen boughs that swirl around lampposts.

The air smells like December.

You walk past the candle shop,

Where once you purchased a candle that conjured the most healing experiences of your life.

You look to your younger self and smile,

Secretly aware of the good things in life to come for them.

The shopkeeper waves as you pass by the holiday-themed window display that overflows with vows of holly and burning tapered candles.

You find yourself telling the young child of all the wonders of the village.

How in the autumn time there were mystical dinners held on a covered bridge where you convened with the most inspirational influences in your life.

You advise them of unexpected things to come,

And that some things may not turn out as planned,

But that you will always have the freedom to change and look for the good in every moment.

It's there even when the world feels bleak.

You sip on the hot drink and the seasonal treat warms you from the inside out.

It is thick,

Silky,

And filling.

The faint sound of carolers becomes louder as you walk closer to the village square where the festival is being held.

Large snowflakes fall upon the earth and land on your lips and face.

They melt instantly,

But impart a clean metallic taste on your lips.

A glittering icy blue sign hangs between lampposts boasting the Sugar Hollow Holiday Festival.

A Christmas tree in the center of the park is illuminated by thousands of colorful bulbs and decked out with large round ornaments in metallic hues of ruby,

Emerald,

Sapphire,

Gold,

And silver.

The hand-blown ornaments are so large that they reflect the happenings of the town like spherical movie screens.

Your young companion looks around in wonder at an age when it is possible to find magic in the mundane.

They are even more enlivened by the holiday spirit.

During this time of year,

Even an adult with an inner scrooge may experience a feeling that anything is possible.

You look to the child and remember what it was like to be so curious and excited by small pleasures.

Beautiful booths constructed of rustic wood host holiday gifts and baked goods for sale.

The smell of peppermint fills the air as you and your young friend walk by a booth that sells artistic candy canes.

Some are sculpted into ice castles,

While other designs depict snowflakes,

Stockings,

And Santa hats.

But the most magical designs are found on the faces of peppermint candies,

The size and shape of old vinyl records.

Somehow the artisan candy maker swirls the shades of red,

White,

And pink to create portraits on the candy.

They ask if you would like to sit for a portrait.

The sparkling eyes of younger you rise to meet your gaze,

And you too feel your fascination growing.

You and the child take a seat on two stools that appear to be made of peppermint candy.

You are still unable to tell when you run your hand across the stool.

It feels glossy rather than sticky,

But smells amazing.

The candy artist adds drops of red dye to a large round cylinder where melted candy is stirred.

They remark on the uncanny resemblance the two of you share,

And you look to one another and giggle over your shared secret.

And with wooden sticks like chopsticks,

The candy artist swirls the colors with a graceful motion.

They masterfully move the color around,

Capturing you and your younger self's likeness.

They then move the candy portrait into a tin that rests in a vat of snow,

Where it quickly cools and hardens.

You and the small child are mesmerized by the finished design.

The artist has captured the impish twinkle in your eyes and elated smiles.

The candy is then wrapped in green wax paper and tied in twine before placed into a holiday shopping bag.

You thank the artist kindly,

And they pass on a free candy stick to your young friend to enjoy as you explore the festival.

You walk by a booth that sells snow globes that mysteriously replicate scenes of places you have been before.

Vacation spots and your favorite locations are depicted within the glass globes.

In some of the globes,

You recognize moments in the timeline of your life that your younger self has yet to experience.

You smile when you point them out,

Filled with the hope for your younger self and excited about the highlights yet to come for them.

And in the center of the snow globe display is a replication of your favorite place to go as a child.

It harbors fond memories for both of you.

Your younger self pulls out a children's wallet and goes to pay for the snow globe as a gift to you.

They are short by quite a bit,

And you offer to help.

The vendors are an older couple and watch your interaction.

The man has a long white beard and a jolly laugh.

His wife is stately,

Calm,

And kind.

The man tells the child that his snow globes are like beloved children of his own.

His wife explains they always care most that they find a good home.

She wraps the snow globe in tissue paper and places it in a brown paper bag.

This is yours.

The child carefully takes the bag and this younger version of you tries so hard to look after this precious gift.

You thank them and move on.

You look at your younger face and are touched by how careful you are at this age.

You wrap your arm around the child and thank them for the gift they insist on carrying.

With big hopeful eyes,

The young child looks at you and implores you to remember the magical moments that you had in your youth.

Even if things were not as you would have liked,

Even if you deserved so much more,

Even if you spent your time daydreaming and longing for more,

You are still here.

You made it.

And that alone is a feat.

You have survived.

And your younger self reminds you that you have also had joyous occasions and once could find them in simple things.

The sweet innocence of this earlier you is refreshing.

And on this wintry day,

You choose to celebrate it.

To celebrate all parts of you that have existed through time and led you to return to the healing village of Sugar Hollow.

You spend the afternoon traveling from one activity to the next.

You build snowmen with the other children of the village who know nothing beyond this magical moment.

They are so present,

It encourages you to be present.

You explore a life-sized gingerbread house and inhale the fragrant air that boasts notes of baking spices,

Ginger,

And molasses.

You and your younger self board a sleigh led by two Clydesdale horses with luxurious chestnut means and feathery ivory tufts of fur on their strong legs.

The sleigh is a shade of crimson with dreamy gold swirls and sleigh bells that hang from the sides.

Malcolm,

The proud owner of the horses and sleigh,

Covers you both with a heavy velour blanket.

He guides you up and down the snowy hills.

The soft sounds of the sleigh gliding across the snow are like a maternal hush,

Soothing you and your companion.

The bells jingle with the occasional jostle and bring a melodic accompaniment to the percussive crunch of horse hooves landing on fresh snow.

You turn back and your younger self happily notices the tracks that lead back to the festival and innocently declares that you can always find your way back if you want.

And you must have wanted to find a way back to let this young child know that they are special and loved.

Malcolm guides the sleigh on a path that winds through the sparse,

Brittle trees that have shed their leaves and now house tiny icicles and patches of snow.

A red fox runs behind the sleigh until you arrive at a bridge that goes over a stream and it parts ways.

A thin layer of ice is formed over the babbling water and you are both mesmerized by the beauty of winter.

Like everything it has but a season and is temporary,

It gives you solace in knowing that every moment will pass,

Although part of you wishes to hold onto this one for a while.

Your younger self rests their head against your heart and you relish one another's body warmth beneath the blanket.

This moment may be one you never expected to experience and its surprise is a gift alone.

The sleigh returns to the festival and when you see the excitement on your younger face,

You realize you may have been most wise about something at this time.

You were able to extract joy from the simple things,

Whether they were marshmallows melting on hot cocoa or the first snow or doing something on your own the first time or finding a secret hideaway or letting your imagination take you to any place you desired to go.

These simple things brought so much pleasure and you promise yourself to find more of them,

To find beauty in the mundane.

The sleigh stops near the frozen pond that becomes an ice skater's dream when winter arrives.

Malcolm helps you both down onto a shoveled walkway.

It's lined with colorful paper bags illuminated by tea light candles that lead to the pond.

The two of you walk together towards the entry to the skating pond.

You walk to a booth to rent ice skates and are helped by a young teen girl who wears a bold sequined elf hat.

She is quirky and kind and makes your younger self laugh.

She hands off a pair of ice skates and vows with trusting eyes that she will watch after your gifts as you skate.

You change into the skates and assist your companion,

Tightening the white laces until the skates mold perfectly around their ankles.

There hand in hand,

You carefully hobble toward the skating pond and make your way onto the ice.

At first tepid,

You find your bearings fast.

This tends to happen often in Sugar Hollow.

Many things become easier than in your normal life.

As you begin to skate,

It feels like you are gliding through a dream.

You and the child discover an innate ability to soar across the silvery white pond.

And the coattails of pea coats of other skaters float in the air.

A saxophonist plays holiday tunes from a small white gazebo decorated with cobalt blue holiday lights and silver garland.

With each strike of a skating blade against the ice,

You are propelled forward and feel a deep sense of freedom.

You hold hands with your younger self and spin in a circle,

Laughing and carefree.

You look to the sky and oversized celestial snowflakes fall around you.

You glide across the ice after your younger self as the melodic notes of your favorite winter tune ring out into the late day.

The elephant gray skies become a dusty shade of midnight blue as early night settles in.

The festival is a glow with holiday lights and you recognize Main Street in the distance by its golden glow.

All is calm and all is bright.

You and your young companion make one last loop around the pond.

Your faces flush with warmth and delight.

Your younger self declares with a prideful,

Tender voice,

We did it!

And you relish how a simple act of skating to a young child is a major accomplishment.

You smile and nod.

Yes,

We did.

The team brings your shoes and packages to a bench where you change out of the ice skates.

Your feet and ankles feel rubbery when you stand in your boots.

Now free from tightly laced skates.

You and your companion laugh as you walk on the crunchy snow towards Main Street.

The storm moves in and the winds begin to whip as you serendipitously arrive at the Sugar Hollow Inn.

The Quaint Bed and Breakfast has hosted visitors from around the world since the 19th century.

Bruce Garland and golden lights wind around the white Roman pillars of the historic inn.

Over a dozen wreaths with shimmering silver bows hang in windows.

Electric candles sit in the windowsills and bring an inviting warmth and lend an inviting warmth to the dark stormy night.

The snow falls heavily,

Nearing whiteout conditions,

When you step into the lobby of the inn.

Warm air rushes around you in a welcoming embrace.

Annabella the innkeeper greets you both and helps you remove your winter attire.

You step out of your boots and she brings plush white slippers to you both.

She grabs a skeleton key from a hook behind the registration desk and leads you towards your suite.

The interior of the inn makes it the perfect place to celebrate the holiday.

Emerald silk wallpaper with gold etchings meets white wainscotting that runs down a long hallway.

In the main area an oversized holiday tree is radiant with colorful lights and satin and velvet bows in rich jewel tones.

Annabella leads you to your room and opens the door into a warm cozy suite.

The plush beds are covered in garnet velvet comforters.

A mountain of pillows is piled against the headboard.

Silk monogrammed pajamas spread across the beds and the younger version of you runs towards them and proudly beams that you share the same name.

Annabella removes a silver cover from a tray to reveal your favorite holiday dish as both a child and now.

We both looked to Annabella quizzically,

However did she know all of this in advance?

As if reading her mind she replies,

Sugar Hollow is a magical place.

She then carefully starts a fire in the fireplace that casts the room in an amber glow.

She tells you to ring if you need anything and wishes you a wonderful night.

You and your young companion change into pajamas,

Free from your heavy winter sweaters and clothes.

The sensation of silk against your skin is a sol for the tension a body holds when it braces in the cold.

You instantly feel your muscles relax.

And before you enjoy the meal,

You mischievously look to your younger self and know there is something you must do.

You guide them towards the bed,

Climb up and begin to jump.

And as you feel the soft velvet beneath your feet and the spring action of the mattress as it launches you towards the buttercream-hued ceiling,

You begin to giggle.

Your younger self continues to bounce and giggles as well.

And you find that you still have the exact same laugh.

When your muscles can no longer propel you into the air and a wave of content exhaustion arrives,

You come down from the bed.

You reach for the warm tiny hand of your companion and help them onto the creaking wooden floor.

You sit in an oversized upholstered chair and your companion squeezes next to you as together you indulge in the wonderful meal prepared by the inn.

Your body soon becomes satiated and sleepy,

Full of warmth and nourishment.

Your younger self yawns and as act becomes contagious,

After a round of yawning,

You decide it is time for bed.

You help your younger self into the bed by the window,

Where the snow coats the individual panes of glass.

The wind whistles outside,

While the fire crackles and pops inside.

You sweep away a tendril of hair from your young companion's face and kiss them on the forehead.

You take in a deep breath and inhale the smell of your youth.

They look at you with glassy eyes and smile.

They thank you for being the person you are and for this happy day.

They tell you you've done just right.

You smile and hug this child and close your eyes,

Imparting them with all the love and nurturing you have deserved throughout this life.

You rise and flip off the switch to a lamp and go to your own bed.

You peel back the velvety comforter and climb into the bed.

You tuck yourself in and your head sinks into the downy pillows.

Your eyes close and just before you drift,

You hear the whispers of your younger self,

I love you.

Though these words may not have always been received or gifted with ease,

Right now you cannot help but say them.

They come without pause.

And I love you.

A wave of serenity and sleep wash over you as you go deeper and deeper down.

You feel all the blessings of the holiday season and are once again grateful for this journey to sugar hollow.

And I am going to count you down to a place of healing and restorative sleep.

To a place where you may be restored and find stillness and the peace that comes on a snowy night that is perfect for sleep.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

Six.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

Finding rest.

Finding respite.

Finding solace.

Finding sleep.

It's time to dream away.

Good night.

Good night.

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