Get Sleepy: Sleep meditation and stories - A Night at Sleepy Hill Manor

Starting point is 00:00:00 Hey friends, for the best Get Sleepy experience, be sure to check out our supporters' feed Get Sleepy Premium for our free listening weekly bonus episodes and access to our entire catalogue. Now, a quick word from our sponsors who make the free version of this show possible. At Salesforce, we're all about asking more of AI. Questions like, where's the data going? Is it secure? Are you sure? Are you sure you're sure? Get answers you can trust from Salesforce at AskMoreVai.com. messages, keep your edge with Thrive Small Business software and never miss a message again.

Starting point is 00:00:45 Thrive offers one solution to communicate, market, and run your business, but simply, small businesses run better on Thrive. Get Command Center for free today at thrive.ca. That's THR-Y-V dot CA. Terms and conditions apply, free plans have limited functionality. Welcome to Get Sleepy, where we listen, we relax, and we get Sleepy. My name's Thomas, and I'm your host. Thanks so much for tuning in. Tonight, we have a very special story that's perfect for Halloween season.

Starting point is 00:01:33 We'll be visiting an old Victorian mansion on a hill, on a dark and stormy night. While this story doesn't have any jump scares and is still designed to help you fall asleep, some listeners may find it a little bit eerie. It has a similar level of eerieness as our previous Halloween stories, like Night of the Fall Moon, the core maze, the night carnival, and the count's castle. So, if you enjoyed those, you should like this one too. This beautifully crafted tale was written by Shady Grove. She adores the Halloween season, as I'm sure is quite evident in the delightfully mysterious storyline of tonight's episode, so I really hope you enjoy listening.

Starting point is 00:02:34 And if you're one to celebrate it, then I wish you a happy Halloween. Before we begin, let's get settled in so that we're cozy and relaxed, ready to welcome the dreamy pull of sleep whenever it comes your way. If you need to adjust your position in bed so that you're more comfortable, feel free to do so. And when you're ready, close your eyes and just begin to tune into your body. Allow the breath to flow naturally as it has done all day long, whether you've noticed it or not. Now is a good time to notice it, to pay attention to the motion of the breath as it softly comes and goes. Use the breath to anchor yourself in the moment to bring a greater sense of relaxation and

Starting point is 00:04:02 calm. However you're feeling right now, just let that gentle inhale and exhale guide you towards rest. And while you do, just listen to my words for the next few moments. Because I want you to know three facts about yourself, and to hear and absorb them without any doubt. Fact 1. You are the only person capable of bringing every unique beauty and quality you possess to this world. Fact 2. You are an undeniable piece of this wild, and you deserve to feel that you belong, because of facts 1 and 2, you are loved and cherished by the world. And you ought to love and cherish yourself too.

Starting point is 00:05:41 I know that this show is here to help you sleep, but I also recognize the weight that my words can hold sometimes. So if you needed to hear that tonight, I hope it's helped. Spend a final moment focusing on your breathing, drawing the air slowly in, and softly releasing it back out. And now that we're settled, it's time to travel into the world of tonight's tale on an overcast autumn evening. Storm clouds are building overhead as the car you're in rumbles down the highway. This outskirts of town. You're on your way to Sleepy Hill mana. An old home, patched atop a little hill, not far from here. It's the perfect place to spend a quiet autumn weekend away from the demands of everyday

Starting point is 00:07:42 life. You've never been out this way before and had never heard of Sleepy Hill mana until recently when your friend invited you to come for a few days. It was a strange series of events that led to the invitation your friend told you. One day they'd been sitting at home when they heard a was on the doorstep, with a small wooden box in his hands. When asked, the man explained that your friend was the apparent heir of an old Victorian home, located on a sprawling hilltop estate. It had been left by a very distant relative, someone your friend had never met. Inside the box was a heavy ornate bronze key. The key to Sleepy Hill mana.

Starting point is 00:09:12 Your friend and the man agreed the key would be held in the care of the resident groundskeeper. And your friend would be welcome to visit the property whenever they'd like. It did, after all, belong to them now. So they got in touch and asked if you'd like to join them for an autumn or getaway to sleepy hell manner. It didn't take much to persuade you, and before you knew it, you'd packed your bags and were on the road. The rhythmic sound of the car loaves you into a kind of trance. You're still paying attention to where you're going of course, but you To allow yourself the space to really take in your surroundings. Autumn leaves blanket the ground on either side of the winding road.

Starting point is 00:10:36 A few specks of yellow and orange dot the pavement, like flecks of paint on a black canvas. The sky overhead is moody and dark. Stormy weather you think to yourself. You're excited to see what sleepy hellmana looks like. Your friend told you they'd only seen a single exterior photo of the place, a beautiful towers, gabled roofs, and bay windows to spare. You almost fear that it isn't fair that you'll get to see it for the first time before your friend does, especially since they are the rightful owner now.

Starting point is 00:11:45 They sent you a message this morning to let you know they'd been delayed. They'll be arriving tomorrow just in time for breakfast instead of tonight. It means the first night at Sleepy Hill mana will be yours and yours alone. The road before you narrows becoming more of a country lane. It still winds upwards, climbing the hill, gently, but purposefully. You feel as though you're being carried along to another reality. A secret hideaway, A secret tied away, not too far from town, but removed from the concerns of the world. Soon you arrive a small button attached to what looks like a speaker. You press it and hear a faint crackling in reply. Almost instantly, the gate swings open. I suppose that means I'm in the right place, you think to yourself.

Starting point is 00:13:33 Slowly, you inch the car forwards, through the gate and into a gravel parking area. Your tyres crunch to a halt as you pull a car into a space beneath the golden leafed boughs of a jack-or-run da tree. If it was spring or summer, you know the tree above you would be bursting with purple flowers, nestled among bright green leaves. But autumn has brought its dusky palette to the grounds of Sleepy Hill mana. Step out of the car with your bag. You notice a few of the Jacker Anders fan-like clusters of leaves on the ground. You pick one up, gently brushing your fingertips along the rib, similar to a stem, feeling the tiny leaves fan beneath your skin.

Starting point is 00:14:52 It's similar to running your fingers up a feather, or along the side of a zipper. Moving your fingers back to the bottom of the rib, you hold them in place and pull the rib quickly downwards. The leaves detach, remaining pinched between your fingertips in a tiny bow-k. You drop the now barren rib to the ground and then release the rice-grain leaves, watching as they flutter delicately down to join it. Like tiny performers spinning and leaping their way off stage at the end of a ballet, before coming to rest in the quiet darkness behind the curtains. You take a deep breath of the cool, evening air. It's brisk with a touch of humidity. As you breathe, you detect the complex sense that marked this season. There's the smell of decomposing leaves mixed

Starting point is 00:16:29 with damp wood and soil. There's a cold freshness, no flowers or pollen, just bare branches and quiet garden plots. And behind it all, there's a hint of wood smoke, aromatic and familiar. Turning to find the source of the wood smoke, you notice a small cottage at the edge of the property near the gate. Standing just outside is an older man wearing a flat cap and an olive-colored knit vest. and an olive-colored knitfast. He nods to you when your eyes meet and you make your way over to him. Perhaps this is the groundskeeper you muse, and your suspicion turns out to be correct. A man of few words, he introduces himself brusquely and presents you with a large bronze key. Take it and thank him, feeling its cold weight in the palm of your hand. He nods in the direction of the mana, just down the gravel drive, beyond a nearby cluster of trees. It's obscured by the autumn foliage, but you gather it's only a few minutes' walk. Everything's been prepared for your stay, he tells you.

Starting point is 00:18:39 There's firewood in each room, and the beds have been made. He's also lit an oil lamp in the room you'll be sleeping in. The house has electricity now, he says. But the previous owner liked the ambience of the older furnishings. You imagine you will too. As you part ways, the caretaker reaches over and taps your arm. Storms coming, he says, looking up to the sky, and then towards the mana. And blustery nights make for strange sounds in an old house like that. It could be a mere observation, but there's a small part of you that wonders if there's a gentle warning there too. Then he turns on his heels and walks into his cottage, closing the door with a crank. With his words lingering in your mind, you make your way up the gravel drive to sleepy

Starting point is 00:20:12 hell manner. Just ahead of the caretaker's cottage, the drive curves sharply to the right. You pass beneath the hanging boughs of a large, scraggly tree. As you step into its shadow, the temperature seems to drop. You pull your jacket more tightly around you and move quickly back into the dimming light. The gravel slides beneath your shoes. It's a satisfying sound that makes you think of those sweeping, gothic tales set in large old houses, not unlike this one. You smile briefly. Perhaps this is the beginning of your very own night of intrigue, you think. As you walk the last few steps up to the house, you begin composing the story in your head.

Starting point is 00:21:41 Of course, it begins with, it was a dark and stormy night. You hear a rumble of thunder in the distance as though the weather has been tasked with adding a sound track to your musings. You continue. A solitary traveler walks up the long and loonsome drive to the house where it all began. As you finish that thought. Sleepy Hill mana appears in your view for the very first time. Right on cue. The rest of your imagined story flutters from your mind as you take it in with all the sight before you. Sleepy Hell Manor is breathtakingly beautiful and mysterious, you think.

Starting point is 00:22:59 Its wine-red exterior blends in with the long evening shadows and is punctuated by black and gold trim. Rounded turrets and angular towers jot up from various corners of the house, complemented by enormous bay windows and countless smaller windows that docked the exterior. The roofs are steeply pitched and a large covered porch shrouded in darkness sits at the front to greet you. The set of thick steps leads up to a round key, fade to black near the door. Above this, on the second floor, you see a light flickering behind the sheer curtains

Starting point is 00:24:18 in a round window. Perhaps it's the lamp the caretaker mentioned, you think. Sitting here in the evening gloom, the house feels old and chanting, and quite formidable. Looking down, you see you've been holding on to the key quite firmly. It leaves a slight imprint on your palm as you loosen your grip. It's just you and me tonight, you whisper to the house. Then you make your way up to the door, insert the key and step inside. Just as the first drops of rain begin to fall. Upon entering, you are greeted by a dim flash of light. Electric candles flicker to life along the walls. Strange, you think. You didn't flip a light switch, and the entry hall seemed to be dark when you were standing outside. Perhaps you just didn't notice the light through the

Starting point is 00:25:57 thick, leaded stained glass windows. You set your bag down and take a look around. The walls are a rich dark wood filled with unique recesses, protrusions and other curious accents. The ceiling is white here with detailed moulding. The floor is also wood covered in a heavy crimson rug splashed with curlacuse in blue and green. A red velvet shades lounge sits in the right corner. To your left is a water wall bookshelf filled with old leather bound books, whose spines are stamped with gold, silver and black lettering. Their aging paper and binding gives off a particular scent, not quite dusty or mildewy, but a familiar old smell. to you but a familiar old smell. It would seem to be a perfectly normal entry hall, save for one peculiarity. This is the extent of it. You can see no other doors, nor windows, nor stairs. The entry hall appears to be a dead end.

Starting point is 00:28:00 How curious you think. There must be a way to get to the rest of the house. You begin to inspect the room for any signs you might have missed, or even a note from the groundskeeper explaining that you should use a back door instead. You run your fingers across the word of the walls. It's smooth and highly polished. Your fingertips bump over the ridges and dips, where it's been elegantly shaped. What wonderful craftsmanship you think to yourself. Reaching the enormous bookcase, you move your fingers over the leather-bound tomes.

Starting point is 00:29:06 There are a few classic mystery novels you recognize, along with history books, and a few about old houses like this one. Patched on a shelf at eye height, is an ornate silver candlestick. You can't help but touch the spindly spiderwebbed patterns of its hefty base. As your skin meets the metal, a crack of thunder sounds outside the house. A bolt of lightning flashes through the front window. And the bookcase begins to move. Slowly it slides open to reveal a long corridor. This must lead to the rest of the house you realize. You turn around to pick up your bag and see that it's now resting on the she's lounge. You're nearly certain you left it on the floor, but perhaps not.

Starting point is 00:30:48 With your bag in hand, you step through the opening in the bookcase. The same wooden floors are here, lined with elegant crimson rucks. The thick material marks your footsteps. The house is silent. The only thing you hear is the muffled sound of the rain, pattering against the windows and roof, accompanied by fertile rumbles of thunder and quick flashes of lightning. Making your way down the corridor, you see a few portraits hanging on the walls. There's an elegant woman in a black gown and pale necklace, a man in a top hat, and even a painting of a dog sitting near near a chair. As you pass by each portrait, you notice the people's eyes seem to follow you. Posing, you step backwards and then forwards. The portraits appear to observe your strange movements.

Starting point is 00:32:34 It must be an optical illusion you realize. Some trick employed by the painter to make the portraits more lifelike. You give a quick nod to the dog and then smile to yourself. Painting or not, animals can be such a comfort in unfamiliar spaces, you think. When you reach the end of the corridor, you find yourself in an odd sort of central space. In every direction, there are rooms or additional corridors to choose from. In this middle hall, there's something you never expected to find, an old-fashioned bar. Tall wooden stalls stand in a line beneath a counter. Behind it are rows of glasses in all shapes and sizes arranged in front of a wide mirror. The ceiling in this hall is different from the others you've seen. It's covered in pressed tin, which boasts elegant patterns and lends a sort of gloomy shine to the room.

Starting point is 00:34:31 You wonder if the people who lived here before used to host grand parties. This space is so central, it's the perfect location for people to gather and chat. You can imagine guests in elegant, old-fashioned dresses and suits, sitting here or milling about, moving from room to room. As your daydreaming, you catch a flash of movement out of the corner of your eye. Turning towards it, you find the hall is still empty. For a moment, you thought you saw the heavy fabric of a long skirt moving through a doorway, but it was probably just a trick of light. Moving on from the bar, you make a left into a small chamber, only big enough for a piano, a few stalls, a wing back chair, and a tall standing table.

Starting point is 00:35:57 Softly, you run your fingertips over the yellowing keys of the piano. They plunk down gently under your touch, sending solitary notes into the room. You can imagine how wonderful it must have been to sit in such an intimate space listening to someone playing a long, moving piece. With a sigh and a last glimpse of the piano, you turn and continue to the next room. Here, you find a treasure trove of books, countless volumes bound in red, green and blue, standing at attention on water wall bookshelves. Their pages are yellowing and some of their spines have cracked, but they are beautiful nonetheless. You find books on geography and history, along with famous novels.

Starting point is 00:37:31 In one corner of the bookshelf, you spot a heavy tomb with a black spine and shiny silver lettering. Victorian ghost stories, the title reads, Outside a boom of thunder rattles the windows. It's followed by a bolt of lightning that illuminates the white cartons. Even though it's a pleasant temperature in the house, you feel the urge to pull your jacket around yourself once again. Having seen all there is to see here, you leave the library and head back into the central hall. Resting your elbows on the bar, you stifled a yarn. You hadn't realized how sleepy you were until you began exploring

Starting point is 00:38:50 the house. Now, what you'd really like to do is have a good, long rest. Your friend will be arriving early tomorrow, just in time for breakfast. You smile at the prospect of getting a full, but off to the right is another corridor. Third times the charm you whisper to yourself. As you're heading for the unexplored territory, you think you hear a faint sound coming from behind you. Pausing for a moment, you think to yourself. That's the unmistakable sound of a piano. You turn back, walking past the bar, and into the music room. When you enter, you feel some cool air that you hadn't noticed before. It flows over the skin on your arms, raising tiny goose bumps.

Starting point is 00:40:40 Old houses can be drafty, you remind yourself. Mentally making a note to close any windows you might find open. Cool temperatures aside, the room is just as you left it. The piano and the furniture are all undisturbed. You shrug and leave the room. It was probably just the where you'll be sleeping tonight. Crossing the central hall, you soon reach the second corridor. This one is shorter than the first, leading directly to a staircase. With your bag now slung over your shoulder, you begin to climb the red carpet covered stairs. It feels regal exploring this vast and strange house alone.

Starting point is 00:42:08 Part of you wishes your friend was here, but you're enjoying having the manner all to yourself tonight too. At the top of the stairs, you realize you've reached the living quarters. There are five rooms, all roughly the same size, arranged in a semicircle around the same kind of central hall. hole. Just then you recall the flickering of the light you'd seen through the window outside. You're nearly positive first room and see it's been done up for a child. There's a tiny bed much smaller than those for adults, a few A few toys and a little white wooden rocking horse. Somehow the same draft that found you downstairs has made its way up here. A hint of cool air moves around the room, and the small wooden horse rocks ever so slightly.

Starting point is 00:43:54 You smile thinking of what a perfect room this would be for any lucky child. any lucky child. Moving on to the next room, you find it near the empty. There are no furnishings here, just a built in bookcase that's been left bare. The walls are painted the same white as downstairs and the ceiling has ornate molding. The only object in the room is a large dark painting hanging above the unlit fireplace. hanging above the unlet fireplace. You hear a rumble of thunder in the distance. Soon it's followed by a flash of lightning. The flash illuminates the whole room in an instant, allowing you to see even the smallest details of the painting in Stark relief. You realize the painting is of this very house, sleepy hill mana,

Starting point is 00:45:30 Sleepy Hill mana on a dark and stormy night just like this one. The details are so fine you can make out individual raindrops pounding on the windows as they are at this very moment. Once the brilliance of the flash subsides, you're left standing in the half- large for the wall it's on. Or perhaps the details are a little too realistic. Or maybe it's that even once the flash of light was gone, you still thought you could see the flickering of a single light in one of the upstairs rooms. A gentle creaking sound brings you out of your reverie. At first you think it's footsteps on the stairs, but you soon realise it's just the sound of a tree branch scratching at a window with with every gust of wind. Taking your bag, you hope the next room will be yours.

Starting point is 00:47:16 You cross the broad central hall and make your way into a large bedroom, overlooking the front of the house. The room is dark, save for a single oil lamp sitting in the window. Behind it, streaks of rain run down the glass, like a thousand tiny rivers flowing over hills and valleys. You smile, you found your bed for the night. You flick on the electric light switch, flooding the room with a soft yellow glow. Then you turn and close the lock and you turn it until you hear a gentle click. You take a moment to appreciate how unique this space is before getting ready for bed. It has the same crimson carpeting and elegant white walls and ceiling. Near the door stands a display case with several tiny knickknacks arranged on glass shelves. You spot an old play bill from a theatre production, a spy glass, a deck

Starting point is 00:49:11 of playing cards, and more. A large, claw-foot tub sits near the door to the bathroom. You also have your own she's lounge, as well as a large, rich red velvet armchair and mahogany writing table. The bed looks inviting too, covered in crisp white sheets. You can't wait any longer to lie down. You change into your pajamas and brush your teeth in your private bathroom. Then you flick off the electric lights. The room grows dark, save for the single oil lamp in the window. You carefully walk over to it and extinguish it as well. Then you draw the curtains and slide into bed. The cool sheets envelop your body.

Starting point is 00:50:47 At first they feel chilly, but soon you're nice and warm and cozy. What a strange and fascinating old place this is, you think to yourself. You're excited, your friend will be arriving in the morning. There's so much more to explore, both in the house and on the grounds. Before you know it, you feel your eyelids growing heavy and your eyes beginning to close. The rain patters against the windows. Every so often a rumble of thunder sounds in the distance. And just as you're starting to drift off to sleep, You think you can almost hear a few solitary notes from an old piano, floating through the air, here at Sleepy Hill Manor, on this dark and stormy night. ... ... ... I'm going to go to the next room. I'm going to go to the next room. I'm going to go to the next room.

Starting point is 00:53:46 I'm going to go to the next room. I'm going to go to the next room. I'm going to go to the next room. I'm going to go to the next room. I'm going to go to the next room. I'm going to go to the next room. I'm going to go to the next room. I'm going to go to the next room.

Starting point is 00:54:02 I'm going to go to the next room. I'm going to go to the next room. I'm going to go to the next room. ... ... ... ... I'm going to go to the next room. I'm going to go to the next room. I'm going to go to the next room. I'm going to go to the next room. I'm going to go to the next room. I'm going to go to the next room. I'm going to go to the next room. I'm going to go to the next room. I'm going to go to the next room.

Starting point is 00:55:38 I'm going to go to the next room. I'm going to go to the next room. I'm going to go to the next room. I'm going to go to the next room. I'm going to go to the next room. ... ... ... ... you you I'm going to go to the next room. I'm going to go to the next room. I'm going to go to the next room. I'm going to go to the next room. I'm going to go to the next room. I'm going to go to the next room. I'm going to go to the next room.

Starting point is 00:57:54 I'm going to go to the next room. I'm going to go to the next room. I'm going to go to the next room. I'm going to go to the next room. I'm going to go to the next room. I'm going to go to the next room. I'm going to go to the next room. ... ... ... you you you

Get Sleepy: Sleep meditation and stories - A Night at Sleepy Hill Manor

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