Welcome to tonight's bedtime story,
The Lake House at Dusk.
You've arrived at the end of the day,
Everything that's happened can rest now,
And it's time to transition into a more quiet and gentle space.
Please take some time to prepare for sleep.
Make yourself comfortable in bed,
Adjusting your pillows and blankets so your body feels deeply supported.
Allow your eyes to close whenever you're ready,
And let your breath begin to slow down,
Signalling to your body that there's no need to rush,
There's nothing you need to do,
And you're in the perfect place right now.
Feel the weight of your body being held by the bed,
And feel the gentle rise and fall of your breath,
Soothing the body,
Softening all the muscles,
The systems of the body,
Your bones,
Receiving the message that it's time to rest.
Sense the back of your head resting into the pillow,
Your shoulders softening,
And your arms heavy,
With each exhalation drawing you deeper into rest.
And as your body settles,
You might imagine,
Sense and feel that you're beginning to drift between waking and dreaming,
Between here and somewhere else,
A place that is familiar and peaceful,
And it's waiting just for you to arrive.
As you slowly drift,
I'd like to read you a bedtime visualisation.
This story begins with you finding yourself walking along a winding path at dusk.
The air is cool and sweet,
Centred with eucalyptus and wood smoke.
Each step you take is a letting go.
The sky blushes with fading light,
Soft amber melting into blue.
And in the distance you can hear water lapping gently at the shore.
Birdsong gives way to quiet,
And you sense the world is slowly exhaling.
Ahead,
A small lake house waits,
Its windows glowing with warm golden light.
A curl of smoke rises from the chimney.
It feels welcoming and cosy,
As you step onto the porch.
The timber creaks softly beneath your feet,
And the door opens easily as though it's been waiting for you.
Inside,
The air is warm and familiar.
There's a fire warming the house,
And the scent of cedar wood and tea drifts through the room.
A wool blanket rests over a chair by the window.
You move towards it,
Draw the blanket around your shoulders,
And snuggle into the chair.
Outside,
The last light slips away.
The lake turns to glass,
Mirroring the open sky above.
You watch through the window as stars appear,
One by one,
Like tiny lanterns suspended in darkness,
Sparkling.
Your body softens with the night.
Your mind becomes quiet,
Like ripples settling on the surface of the water.
Whatever remains of the day can rest now.
You pour yourself a cup of tea.
The steam rises,
Curling through the air like a gentle spell.
You take a sip.
It warms your chest and belly.
The moon lifts herself over the hills,
Casting silver light across the lake.
You step outside for one last moment,
Wrapped in the quiet.
The air is cool against your skin.
The sky vast and endless above.
Somewhere inside,
A soft whisper says,
You can rest now.
It's time to sleep.
You return to the cabin and find a bed inside.
Slip beneath the covers and let the weight of the blanket hold you softly.
The sound of the lake.
The stillness of the night.
The pulse of the earth.
All lull you into a deep,
Effortless rest.
The stars keep watch above you.
The lake breathes beside you.
And you drift into sleep.
Carried on the quiet tide of night.
Sleep well.
You are safe.
You are held.
You are home.
