Welcome.
For this guided sleep story.
We will return to the borderlands of the haven.
On Midsummer's Eve.
Make yourself comfortable.
We'll first practice a little bit of the box breathing technique to relax.
Simply breathe in.
Counting to four.
Hold the breath and count to four again.
Then exhale to the count of four.
Do this a few times.
And gradually feel any tension releasing itself.
Mellow evening sunlight lies gently over the haven as you join your fellow villagers near the little shop.
The air is mild.
The breeze blowing from inland.
With the scent of earth and wildflowers.
The sea that laps at the walls of the tiny harbour is benign and gentle in the hush of the evening.
You have walked here with the old lady.
Because tonight is Midsummer Eve and another occasion when the people of the village gather.
Tonight,
You will walk about the boundaries of the haven.
Each person choosing a different location.
After.
You will return to the inn for food and drink.
You and the old lady and the gentleman from the old manor have decided to go together.
Following a route you planned on your map.
In ones and twos or more.
The villagers cheerfully depart.
Talking as they go.
Your little group passed down the village street to the gate that leads into the field of the standing stones.
But you do not stop here.
You are going to a place you have not been to before.
The sky glows with the colours of the late sunset.
Wisps of gossamer cloud that promise fair weather Burn in hues of amber,
Pink and rose.
Twilight lasts long in the haven.
And the last birds are calling their evening song before nightfall.
All the land smells sweet and summery.
The three of you are in no hurry and enjoying the gentle pace and the warm evening.
You talk quietly about different things.
The peaceful,
Safe and kind life of the haven as you pass the track through the little wood.
To your right,
The line of the fairy wood stands dark and still.
The earth beneath your feet is cool and familiar.
And you feel a deep connection with it.
As though the land itself.
Recognises your presence.
At the top of the field,
You open the gate into the track that curves around toward the fairy wood.
The meadows and fields begin to darken.
But the air is luminous as a great moon rises over the wood.
It is still quite easy to see your way.
You can hear the soft tread of your companion's boots on the path.
A small trail leads off toward the margins of the forest.
This leads,
As you know,
To the little well or spring.
You remember the taste of that water.
Crystal clear and cold.
But you are not going there tonight your way leads on following the line of the wood from somewhere deep in the trees you hear the beautiful song of a nightingale now you walk in companionable silence,
Absorbing the rich,
Fresh scents.
Listening to the sound of the nightingale.
You look toward the fairy wood,
Which now curves away from the path.
You realise that you do not know the extent of it,
Seeing mainly the paths closest to your home,
Or those you have travelled through.
In the pony trap.
But closer at hand is a little corpse.
Perhaps an outlier of those ancient woods.
Because the whisper of the trees as you pass through sounds familiar and seems to welcome you.
You leave the trees,
The path meandering away,
Pale in the night.
The old lady touches your arm gently and you pause.
Seeing ahead of you the white stag.
Snow white and majestic.
Standing as still as a statue.
It tosses its head and turns,
Walking slowly.
The three of you follow.
There is no real sense of movement in this journey.
It seems that you almost glide or float under the huge moon and the bright scattered stars The path you follow raises a little toward a gentle hill.
An outlier of the higher land that climbs to the moors The stag climbs it and waits beside a great stone,
A solitary monolith.
As you approach the stone,
The old lady and gentleman stop and gesture for you to go on.
You reach out and touch the time-weathered surface.
It feels warm.
And the moonlight glances over carved shapes.
Writing or images from a time long forgotten.
Through your fingertips,
You feel the faintest pulse,
A steady rhythmic thrum deep within.
Like the heartbeat of the earth itself.
Then,
The stone begins to illuminate.
A shimmer of light begins to rise from its base.
And then jumps upward like a golden beam.
It pierces the sky like a beacon.
Illuminating the darkness.
Turning,
You can see the other stone guardians of the haven.
As they cast light up toward the stars.
You can smell ozone in the air.
Feel a fizzing like electricity on your skin.
It feels like healing.
Like protection.
Exhilarating yet comforting.
And you can sense the immense power and strength.
That comes up from deep in the earth.
You do not know how long you stand there,
Watching the light beams that form a ring around the haven.
But then you feel the warmth at your shoulder.
As the white stag nudges you gently with its head.
If he spoke.
He could not say more clearly that it is over.
At least for this night.
You see that the light is descending.
Dropping back into the stone.
For a moment.
His clothes.
And then the light fades.
The night seems dark.
But the white stag nearby still shines.
His scent like a starlight,
The cold of winter and snow.
Slowly,
You and your companions walk back down the path.
You are all silent,
As nothing needs to be said.
The night is still and calm.
As you make your way back to the village.
The doors of the inn are open.
Spilling light onto the street.
And you are glad to sit down with a hot drink.
The villagers come in one by one.
To sit down.
Sip their drinks and then depart.
You are feeling pleasantly tired.
And looking forward to the blissful comfort of your bed.
Soon,
The three of you make your way home.
The old gentleman saying good night as he walks down the lane that leads to the manor.
You and the old lady continue on.
And part at her cottage.
You are quite ready for bed as you enter your own home slowly getting ready before laying down and drawing up the covers.
Your limbs become heavy and relaxed.
As you close your eyes.
Thinking of the night.
The moon and stars.
The White Stag.
The display of energy that is always there,
Guarding the haven and all who live in it.
You can still feel the power,
Comforting and protective.
As you gradually drift.
Into.
Sleep.
Sleep.
Sleep.
