Get Sleepy: Sleep meditation and stories - Each Corner of the House

Episode Date: November 21, 2019

Welcome back, sleepyheads. Tonight, TK takes us on a relaxing ride to a friend's old home. 😴  Sound design: car driving.    Support Us   - Get Sleepy’s Premium Feed: https://getsleepy.com/support/.  - Get Sleepy Merchandise: https://getsleepy.com/store.  - Apple Podcasts: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/get-sleepy/id1487513861.    Connect  Stay up to date on all podcast news and even vote on upcoming episodes!  - Website: https://getsleepy.com/.  - Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/getsleepypod/.  - Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/getsleepypod/.  - Twitter: https://twitter.com/getsleepypod.    About Get Sleepy  Get Sleepy is the #1 story-telling podcast designed to help you get a great night’s rest. By combining sleep meditation with a relaxing bedtime story, each episode will guide you gently towards sleep.    Get Sleepy Premium Get instant access to ad-free episodes, as well as the Thursday night bonus episode by subscribing to our premium feed. It's easy! Sign up in two taps!  Get Sleepy Premium feed includes:  Monday and Wednesday night episodes (with zero ads). The exclusive Thursday night bonus episode. Access to the entire back catalog (also ad-free). Exclusive sleep meditation episodes. Discounts on merchadise. We’ll love you forever. Get your 7-day free trial: https://getsleepy.com/support.  Thank you so much for listening!  Feedback? Let us know your thoughts! https://getsleepy.com/contact-us/.   That’s all for now. Sweet dreams ❤️ 😴 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Before tonight's episode, I want to let you know about our supporters' feed Get Sleepy Premium, the best way to experience the show and get a good night's sleep. With Get Sleepy Premium, everything is ad-free. You'll receive a bonus episode every week, and have full access to our entire back catalogue. Your support really helps, and means so much to us. Simply tap the link in the show notes to learn more. Now, a quick word from our sponsors who make it possible for us to bring you two three episodes each week. Imagine how much better the world would be if everyone woke up well-rested every day.

That is why the team and I make Get Sleepy, and our broad network of sleep podcasts called Slumber Studios. And you can join us in this mission. You can help by sharing your favourite episode with a friend or family member, or by supporting the show via our premium feed, which will get you ad free access to the entire Get Sleepy catalog, plus all of our weekly exclusive bonus episodes. You can even get a discounted price by subscribing to our Samba Studios Premium Bundle, which includes the Sleepy Bookshelf and Deep Sleep sounds as well. You won't find better sleep anywhere else. To learn more

and sign up, follow the link for Get Sleepy Premium in the show notes, or you can subscribe directly with in Apple podcasts. Thanks so much for your support. Welcome to Get Sleepy. The podcast where we listen, we relax and then we get sleepy. My name is Thomas and I'm your host. Thank you for listening to the podcast. Whether it's your first time or if you've been here from episode one, you're very welcome. And I hope you enjoy listening. Of course it's really important to us that we keep receiving feedback from all of you listeners, so that we can continue to improve the podcast and make it the absolute best

tool there is for getting a good night's rest. So if you do want to give us some feedback then you can go to our website getsleepy.com forward slash feedback. There you can reach out to me personally and to the rest of the team. And if you are enjoying the podcast then we'd love it if you would spread the word on social media and by word of mouth amongst your friends and family. It really does make a huge a review on iTunes as well. Now before we get to tonight's story, I just wanted to briefly speak about sleep itself and what a curious thing sleep is.

I've had plenty of sleep troubles myself, which really has led to the inspiration for me to be a part of this podcast. I'm hoping that together we can all create the best tool that there is for everyone out there to get a better night's sleep. Now the reason I say sleep is a curious thing is that it's one of the few things in the world that the more we try, the less we get out of it. Now by that, I don't mean that you shouldn't try to get into a good routine or you shouldn't try to listen

to this podcast. What I'm suggesting is you need that effortlessness with sleep. You need to just let sleep happen. So hopefully we've get sleepy. This podcast can be the ideal backdrop for you to allow sleep to just happen. If you need somewhere to focus your mind, then let it be on our lovely narrator's voice. And just let sleep naturally come without force, without string, without trying, just be an ease. And I think tonight's story is really going to allow you to do that because we've got the wonderful T.K. Kelman, who I know you're going to absolutely love. I've got one of those really comforting, homely tones to his voice, so I'm sure you're going to enjoy it.

Before we get there, let's just first make sure we're comfy and relaxed ourselves. Just take a deep breath in, nice and slowly, and then breathe out even slower. Breathe in and release. Breathe in. Release. With each breath out, feel the tension of the day. Begin to your arms. Nestle your head down in the pailer.

As we begin tonight's story, it's called each corner of the house. A young couple are in the car and a short drive to a house in the countryside. Narrated by the wonderful T.K. Kalman. The moment they reach the edge of the city, Matthew and Catherine let out a long sigh and felt their bodies begin to relax. The car pushed forward as the hills rolled out in front of them. With the city out of sight, the air became warmer and quiet fell around them like a soft sheet. They were traveling to Matthew's old old family home in the calm countryside, where the only sound was birds, sweetly whispering

to each other and the shushing sway of the trees in a gentle breeze. The land reached out far in front of them as the wheels of the car rolled and rolled. The motion rocking Catherine backwards and forwards in a sleepy low. The sky met the land all around them in an orange glow in an orange glow, and clouds were pulled across its reach like the satisfied stretch of a lazy cat. The hills humped forward and yellow light began to appear in houses as the inhabitants pulled their curtains and dropped their blinds, ready to settle in for the evening. Matthew had something special arranged at the house of Catherine, the house she had never been to before. to before. When she asked what it was, he put one finger to the side of his nose and gently tapped to show her she shouldn't pry. Then, he curved his lips to a sweet smile and gave wing. They drove through winding roads past fields of pea-green and hay yellow, where horses shimmied their tails and cattle snacked on freshly grown grass. Every now and then, a church deep old could be seen stretching up into the sky, around

the sloping roofs of quiet homes. Farmhouses sat in their blankets of patchwork fields with obedient and dosh-yled dogs, relaxing at front doors. And in the fields, herds of sheep sortered along like fluffy summer clouds. They drove through a small pretty village with narrow roads and cobbled streets. Old houses with memories deep in their stones. A village with men in white linen, finishing an ambling game of cricket, absently pulling the stumps from the soft earth and slowly swinging their baths, as they walk to the clubhouse for tea and warm scones.

Then out of the village, the road carved through a metal of tall grass. And Matthew and Catherine arrived at the long gravel driveway that led to Matthew's old family home. Trees hung over the driveway in an arc of branches, welcoming them forward, drawing Matthew and Catherine up to the house. An ornate fountain trickled slow water from the mouth of a stone lion, its jaws gaping in a still yawn. And before them, the house was large and old, and it glowed golden in the low afternoon's

sun. Matthew rounded the car slowly on the oval driveway at the front of the house. Catherine listened as the wheels on the gravel, made a soft, crunching sound as Matthew brought the car to a stop. They stepped from the car and breathed in deeply fresh air of the countryside. They felt the aroma of cut grass and wildflowers fill their lungs and relaxed their tired bussels. Then Matthew took Catherine's hand and together they walked up to the front door of the house. The door was a large thick wooden arc with a brass door knocker.

It was heavy and creakaked when it swung. The door itself was slow to open with its heavy weight in old comfortable hinges. Matthew's father opened the door from inside with a wide kind smile. He was a large, broad, gentle man who would give bear hugs that would envelop its subject with a feeling of complete safety. He put a large metal key into Matthew's hand and embraced them both before he left for his evening stroll around the village. Matthew explained that this house had been in his family for generations. It was a place of comfort and solitude, of calm and relaxation, where there was no disturbance and no hurry, only ease and rest.

They both stepped inside the house, a large swooping staircase with deep, thick, carpeted stairs curved around to the right. A real fire crackled in the study, and the smell of baking bread wafted forward from the kitchen down the hall. The whole house seemed to relax and settle once the two of them were inside, as if it was welcoming them with its own arms. Matthew said it was time for Catherine's surprise, and he let her over to a cherry wood cabinet in the hallway.

He opened a slow creaking drawer that wafted forward the scent of the cherry wood, and just a hint of the lavender that was dotted on white sheets of paper. Catherine breathed in the smells, and Matthew laid the large metal key in the cup palm of Catherine's hand. Catherine folded her palm around the key and felt the weight of it sit there. Then Matthew gave her an old sheet of paper with a map drawn on it that contained every room in the old house. Matthew said Catherine was to follow the instructions on the map and she would reach her destination.

They began in the study to the left, where the fireplace swayed its flames and softly breathed out mesmerizing warmth. Warps. Oak wood bookcases were huddled together from floor to ceiling and around the entire span of the walls filled with old books and new books containing stories that were written throughout the centuries. These books were read in quiet afternoons when the sun pushed in through the windows and at nighttime to ease readers into a deep sleep. A soft burgundy leather chair sat in the sun that trickled in from the warm window. A piled rug spread itself in front of the fire like a tire dog. And an old dark wood writing desk was nestled in the corner, with soft cream writing paper and a brown pen spread out on top of it. Catherine looked around the room, the key and the map in her hands.

There were paintings of fields with purple sunset skies, cottages, with a swirl of smoke trailing from chimneys, and ducks and geese that waddled their way down to a stream. Katherine let the still air of the study envelop her for a moment before Matthew sat down in the soft leather chair by the fire. He got comfortable in the chair and said she should begin her journey around the house. Katherine left Matthew, already letting his eyelids droop by the warm fire, and she began exploring. Her first stop was in the kitchen down the hall.

She traced the root on her map with her finger and followed it to the room with a scent of baking bread still lingered in the air. A wide agar oven hummed and a pine wood table that silently in the middle of the room. On the table was a part of tea, freshly baked bread and a part of syrupy honey. Gathering sat down at the table, her legs feeling heavy and relaxed. She poured the hot tea into a brown colored pottery mug and she cut a slice of the warm bread and lay it on a thick white plate. The heat from the tea filled her senses, and she felt herself begin to drift away with the steam and the scent of the sweet honey.

She took a ladle like spoon and curled some of the honey onto the bread and began to eat. The warm tea and the bread filled her belly and made her eyelids true. After a few minutes at the old rustic table in the oven-warmed kitchen, and the map showed that this was the way she should go. Catherine walked through the door and found herself in a sitting room. There was a soft pink fabric sofa and a low-varnished coffee table with a small pile of old books. She ran her finger over their hard-bound covers silently reading the titles to herself, and encyclopedia of Garden Birds.

A collection of Zen Boligery. A book of English palates. A large slab with a golden fabric shade was dimly lit, and a thick soft pile rug in deep purple reached out to the other side. Katherine looked at her map again, and where this room was drawn, there was an instruction to remove her shoes. Catherine leaned over and stepped out of her shoes. Then she walked forward onto the rug and she felt the padded softness of the pile fur-like material comfort her feet, and shape itself around her toes like sand stillness of the room fill her tired body.

All around her was quiet, and she took the moment to just listen to her own breathing, and to feel it deepened within her body. She breathed in and out like the slow movement of the cows and the fields and the way the trees swayed in the breeze. Somewhere in the distance of her quiet mind, there was a ticking of a clock like a soft kiss. A pendulum that's one lazily, back, and forth, back, and forth.

It's heavy weight swaying from side to side. And when she opened her eyes again, she could see a tall grandfather clock standing quietly by another door. Catherine slowly looked again at her map and she followed its river like lines towards the door. This door swung slowly out when she touched it. And when she stepped through, she found herself back near the entrance to the house where the wide deep staircase rose up to the second floor. Katherine was still barefoot and as she stepped onto the first stair she could feel the carpet relax under the weight of her. Her feet made slow indentations in the

spongy carpet of the stairs as she took her time and began to walk up. The banister was made of rosewood that swirled around in an s-shape in front of her and was carved and varnished like warmed caramel. Smooth beneath her hand as she fell her way up the stairs. The map indicated that there were 28 steps in total. So she counted down as her 22, 21, 20, with each step feeling more and more relaxed. 11. 10. 9. The temperature of the air slowly warming as she makes her way. Seven. Six.

Five. Four. 4. 3. 2. 1. A large stained glass window at the top of the stairs cast a mesmerizing light of glowing, summer yellow and deep midnight blue. It fell on the floor in front of her in a swirl of color. As Catherine paused at the top, she checked her map again, and the meandering lines took her to a room to her left.

She pushed the door gently, and inside she saw this was a large fabric rocking horse with a kind face and a full tail of soft hair. Catherine stepped forward and ran her hand through the mane of luscious hair. Her fingers trailed the mane and the silky soft tendrils fell through her fingers like warm water. Large, deep red cushions were scattered on the floor. And limp, soft, teddy bears lay around waiting to be hugged and cuddled. Gather and wondered if these teddy bears had been Matthews, and he held them and felt them comfort him on the floor when he drifted off to sleep as a young boy. She wondered if he'd sat on the deep cushions on the floor and built towers with soft

blocks. And then, perhaps he took a nap as the afternoon drifted on, and the sun filled the room before it gave way to nighttime. Catherine sat down on the cushions briefly and unfolded her map again. She was near the end of the trail and she could feel the evening falling all around the house. The scent of baking bread still reaching into corners of the house and the heat from the open fire downstairs lifting to the other rooms. And the slow ticking of the grandfather clock by a little by. Katherine looked at the map and traced with her finger where she was and where she should go next. She stood again and felt her limbs heavier now,

and she left the room to go on to the next one. As Catherine walked along the landing, she felt her breathing start to slow, and her body began to relax. She reached the last room, and she took the large metal key. Matthew's father had passed to him, and Matthew had passed to Catherine out of

her deep and weighted pocket and she examined how it would fit into the flock on the store. She could see it was perfect and she placed the key inside the keyhole. The key snuggled in with a satisfying click and Catherine turned it, listening to the mechanic of the lock moving. Then she pushed the door open. Inside there was a pile of duvetes and blankets, pillows and cushions, all warmed by the afternoon and cushions, all warmed by the afternoon sun and the heat from the fire below. Katherine looked down at her map again and saw this was the end of the trail. She thought about Matthew downstairs, probably drifting off into a dream-filled sleep of his own, in the soft-blesser armchair in the quiet study. She thought of his father taking a gentle stroll around the village, and coming back to

the warm bread and the full teapot in the kitchen. And she imagined the people of the village all finding the stillness in quiet of their homes after their long days, sitting by fires and thinking and dreaming. Their chimney showing signs of the evening as gentle smoke slowly curled its way out of the warm bricks. Then she thought of the plush rug and the soft sofa in the sitting room downstairs. The wide deep staircase that curled around and rose up to this floor with the ease and grace of a dancer. And the small cushions in the playroom. And the soft and still toys all napping and waiting to be played with again someday. This was the end of Catherine's Trail, here in this upstairs room where the warm scent of bread and the crackle of

the fire lifted and filled the air. She had delved into each corner of the house, dislod large, yawning, country house that was filled with memories and happiness. Where Matthew had spent his slow summer days playing in the playroom, and out in the cricket field and onto the land around where the farms reached out and a river meandered. Katherine took a few steps forward towards the cushions and duvetes in front of her, and she eased herself down to sit on them. The softness was as light as air, and she felt as if she was floating. Her body relaxed into the shape of the cushions, and she lay herself down into the docile pile of comfort. Her head nuzzled into the pillow, and the softness of the material molded around the shape of her smiling face.

Her muscles relaxed and became heavy. Calm and peace filled the air around her and her body and felt the material relax and snooze around her. She was exactly where she wanted to be as she felt sleep, begin to fill her senses. A smile of pure happiness and carefree expanded inside her. This was where Matthew had directed her to. After her busy week, he knew this was what she needed. This was a place for dreams and relaxation. For rest and peace.

Now, after she had delved into each corner of the house, this was the last place left to explore. Her eyes are closed heavily and her breathing had fallen into a long and perfect sleep. 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.

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