Nothing much happens: bedtime stories to help you sleep - Cloud Club

Episode Date: June 9, 2025

Our story tonight is called Cloud Club, and it’s a story about an afternoon stretched out under the open sky. It’s also about the friends you’ve known since you were young, a polka-dotted blanket, memories of games played, strawberries and wax paper, mint and quiet times, in the soft summer air. Subscribe to our Premium channel. The first month is on us. 💙 Jaspr Air Scrubber: Learn more at jaspr.co, and use the code SLEEP to get $300 off. We give to a different charity each week, and this week we are giving to Elephant Havens. Their mission is to protect and preserve the African Elephant. Through habitat protection, community outreach, and the rescue and hand-rearing of young elephant orphans. NMH merch, autographed books and more! Pay it forward subscription  Listen to our daytime show Stories from the Village of Nothing Much.  First This, Kathryn’s guided mediation podcast.  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Hi friends. Want every episode ad free? Tap the link in our show notes to subscribe. If you're on Apple Podcasts, just hit subscribe on our show page. Easy and it helps keep the show going. Let's take a deep breath together. In through the nose. And out through the mouth. It feels good to breathe deeply. And the air we breathe, especially at night, matters more than we might think. While we sleep, our bodies are hard at work, restoring, repairing, and recharging. But that work can be quietly disrupted by what's floating in the air—things like dust, pollen, and other allergens. I didn't used to think much about indoor air quality, but once I did, I realized, if

we care about what we eat and drink, why not care just as much about what we breathe? That's why I sleep with a Jasper air scrubber in my room. It has no annoying lights and doubles as a gentle white noise machine that's become essential to my bedtime rhythm. But more than anything, it's turned my bedroom into a sleep sanctuary. A space where the air helps me sleep, deeply and peacefully. I can't recommend Jasper enough. You can learn more at Jasper.co.

And if you use the code SLEEP, you'll get $300 off. That's JASPR.co. Use code SLEEP for $300 off. That's JASPR.CO. Use code sleep for $300 off. Welcome to Bedtime Stories for Everyone, in which nothing much happens, You feel good, and then you fall asleep. I'm Catherine Nicolai. I write and read all the stories you hear on Nothing Much Happens. Audio engineering is by Bob Wittersheim. We give to a different charity each week,

and this week we are giving to elephant havens. Their mission is to protect and preserve the African elephant through habitat protection, community outreach, and the rescue and hand rearing of young elephant orphans. You can learn more about them in our show notes. For an ad-free and bonus-filled experience, become a premium subscriber. There's a link in our show notes, and Apple and Spotify users can just click the handy button right on the show page. The first month's on us.

There is solid science behind how bedtime stories train you to be a better sleeper, but it's probably enough just to know that they help you feel good, focus in a soft way, and relax. So just listen. Unclench your jaw. Let yourself be ready to sleep. I'll tell the story twice, and I'll go a little slower the second time through. If you wake later in the night, don't hesitate to turn a story back on, and you'll drop right back

off. Our story tonight is called Cloud Club, and it's a story about an afternoon spent stretched out under the open sky. It's also about the friends you've known since you were young. A polka-dotted blanket. Memories of games played. Strawberries and wax paper. Mint and quiet times. in the soft summer air. Okay, lights out, snuggle down, let everything relax. Know that you did enough today.

You did. And now the world needs nothing from you but your rest. Draw a deep Nice, do it again, breathe in. And let it out with sound. Good. Cloud club. I was laying out the blanket when I stopped to look up and noticed a cloud that reminded me of an elephant, a rounded, giant shape that must have stretched stories tall. I watched as it seemed to unfurl its trunk, which then broke away and became something like a paintbrush with a long tapered tip. My eyes drifted to the horizon where the tops of trees filtered sunlight and swayed with the breeze. It was an excellent day for Cloud Club.

I'd forgotten about the blanket. It hung limply from one hand. I reached down to get a better grip on it, then stood tall and flung it out in front of me. I did it a few times, noticing stray blades of dry grass from our last day out. They bounced on the polka-dotted cotton fabric as I tossed it. And I remembered a game we used to play in kindergarten. All of us kinder in a circle, gripping a giant parachute while the teacher tossed balls and beanbags onto the fabric. We bounced and shook it, pretending they were popcorn kernels popping in a giant pan. My favorite part came after all the popcorn had bounced away.

We'd raise the chute overhead on a signal, then turn in place and tuck ourselves underneath, pulling the edges down tight. The fabric puffed into a dome and slowly drifted down, covering us completely. For those five or so seconds, it felt like being in another world. The light was colored, in my memory, a bright orange as it shone through the nylon. The sudden hush as we watched it billow and fall, made for a few magical moments in the middle of gym class. I smiled at the gift of that memory as I settled the blanket onto the grass, especially since the other two members of Cloud Club

had stood on either side of me when we'd played that game. That's how long we'd been friends. I dropped down onto the blanket and stretched out onto my stomach, letting my feet slip out of my sandals. I laid one cheek against the cotton and closed my eyes. cheek against the cotton and closed my eyes. I could feel the blades of grass underneath, and with each deep breath felt my belly press into the earth and lift away on the exhale. The air was thick with the scent of grass and trees, not sweet like flowers, but full of a vibrant chlorophyll smell

that radiated from everything growing nearby. Whenever Cloud Club meets, which is not as regularly as we'd like, but as often as we're able, there are three jobs, three duties, if you will, and we rotate through them each time. The first duty which fell to me today was spot finder. We needed a place to lay out a blanket and watch the clouds roll by. It wasn't exactly a rule that the spot had to be new every time, but we all enjoyed it more when it was. We often met in the village park on the east side of downtown.

There were lots of good cloud-watching spots. In the autumn, we'd head out to the orchards, where we could smell fresh apples while we reclined. while we reclined. Once we'd borrowed my sister's apartment, just for the access to her rooftop, though it turned out too hot, and we gave up the clouds for ice cream after 20 minutes.

Another time, we tried the center of the cross-country track while the team was away at a meet. That had been interesting. But my favorite spots were always the ones furthest from buildings and people, where the only sounds were birdsong and cicadas. Today we were in a quiet park mostly used by birders, a few trails, some benches, and a wide stretch of soft sloped land ringed by trees. The grass was lush, and there wasn't another blanket of friends in sight. The other two cloud club roles were just as vital. Snack Provider and Drink Chooser. Snacks ranged from chips and crackers, hummus and crudités, to cookies and Rice Krispie squares. And once during a chilly December meeting that hadn't lasted long but still felt magical in the snow, there was a tray of gingerbread. We often drank iced tea in a range of flavors or ginger ale chilled to the perfect temperature.

I wondered what we were in for today as I rolled onto my back, listening to the dry rustle of the grass beneath me. I tucked my hands behind my head, crossed one ankle over the other, and had just drawn a deep breath when I heard one of my friends call out from the path, you better not be starting without us. My exhale turned into a laugh. I propped up on my elbows and saw the other two cloud club members making their way across the meadow. I've barely looked at any clouds, I swear, I called back. They smiled as they plopped their bags and themselves down beside me. Good spot, said one. Good spot, agreed the other.

I sat up, crisscross applesauce, just like we learned in kindergarten, and waited to be handed a snack and a drink. What an absolute joy, I thought, to have friends like these. People who know you well, who you can be quiet and unmasked with, who feed you, water you, enjoy life beside you, and don't need much else beyond your company. From a basket came the rustle of wax paper, and I smelled strawberries. Our snack provider had gone with a classic today, clearly tuned in to the kindergarten memories that had been floating through my own head all day. She me a good old peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Soft bread, cut on the diagonal, wrapped in wax paper with a napkin. On the other corner of the blanket, and decidedly fancier, drinks were being made, tonic water, lemon slices, and fresh mint.

Once everything had been passed around, we raised our cups and tapped the rims together. and tapped the rims together. We would eat and sip and chat a bit, and stretch out with our heads together and bodies fanned outward, like a three-pointed star, to watch the clouds. I might mention that there's a name for this hobby, nephology. They kindly indulge my need to drop fun facts into our outings. Eventually, one of us might fall asleep, and the afternoon would drift past as we recharged together.

I know we see shapes in clouds because our brains are built to search for patterns and meaning. But we'd learn to let them slide by, liminal and unexplained. We were content just to witness them. Cloud Club just to witness them. Cloud club. I was laying out the blanket when I stopped to look up and noticed a cloud that reminded me of an elephant, a rounded, giant shape that must have stretched stories I watched as it seemed to unfurl its trunk, which then broke away and became something

like a paintbrush with a long tapered tip. My eyes drifted to the horizon, where the tops of trees filtered It was an excellent day for Cloud Club. I'd forgotten all about the blanket. It hung limply from one hand. I reached down to get a better grip on it, then stood tall and flung it out in front of me. times, noticing stray blades of dry grass from our last day out. They bounced on the polka-dotted cotton fabric as I tossed it. And I remembered a game we used to play in kindergarten. All of us kinder in a circle, gripping a giant parachute gripping a giant parachute while the teacher tossed balls and bean bags onto the fabric. We bounced and shook it, pretending they were popcorn kern, popping in a giant pan.

My favorite part came after all the popcorn had bounced away. We'd raise the chute overhead on a signal, then slowly drifted down, covering us completely. five or so seconds. It felt like being in another world. The light was colored. In my memory, a bright orange, as it shone through the nylon. The pressure of the air, the sudden hush as we watched it billow and fall, made for a few magical moments in the middle of gym class. I smiled at the gift of that memory as I settled the blanket onto the grass, especially since the other two members of Cloud Club had stood on either side of me when we played that game. That's how long we'd been friends. I dropped down onto the blanket and stretched my eyes. I could feel the blades And with each deep breath, felt my belly press into the earth and lift away on the exhale. The air was thick with the scent of grass and trees, with the scent of grass and trees. Not sweet like flowers,

but full of a vibrant chlorophyll smell that radiated from everything growing nearby. Whenever Cloud Club meets, not as regularly as we'd like, but as often as we're able, We doodies, if you will, and we rotate through them each time. The first duty, which fell to me today, was spot finder. We needed a place to lay out a blanket and watch the clouds roll by. It wasn't exactly a rule that the spot had to be somewhere new every time, but we all enjoyed it more when it was. We often met in the village park on the east end of downtown. There were lots of good cloud-watching spots, and in the autumn we'd head out to the orchards, where we could smell fresh apples while we reclined. Once we borrowed my sister's apartment

just for access to her rooftop, though it turned out to be too hot, and we gave up the clouds for ice cream after twenty minutes. Another time we tried the center of the cross-country track while the team was away at a meet. That had been interesting. But my favorite spots were always the ones furthest from buildings and people, where the only sounds were birdsong and cicadas. Today we were in a quiet park, mostly used by birders, a few trails, some benches, and a wide stretch of soft sloped land ringed by trees. The grass was lush, and there wasn't another

blanket of friends in sight. The other two cloud club rolls were just as vital as spot finder. They were snack provider and drink chooser. Snacks ranged from chips and crackers, hummus and crudités, to cookies and rice crispy squares. And once, during a chilly December meeting that hadn't lasted long but still felt magical in the snow. There was a tray of gingerbread. We most often drank iced tea in a range of flavors, or ginger ale chilled to the perfect temperature. I wondered what we were in for today as I rolled onto my back, listening to the dry rustle of the grass beneath me. I tucked my hands behind my head, crossed one ankle over the other, and had just drawn a deep breath

when I heard one of my friends call out from the path. You better not be starting without us. My exhale turned into a laugh. I propped up on my elbows and saw the other two cloud club members making their way across the meadow. I've barely looked at any clouds, I swear, I called back. They smiled as they plopped their bags and themselves down beside me. Good spot, said one. Good spot, agreed the other. I sat up, crisscross applesauce, just like we learned in kindergarten, and waited to

be handed a snack and a drink. What an absolute joy, I thought, to have friends like these. People who know you well, who you can be quiet and unmasked with, who feed you, water you, enjoy life beside you, and don't need much else beyond your company. From a basket came the rustle of wax paper when I smelled strawberries. Our snack provider had gone with a classic today, clearly tuned in to the kindergarten memories that had been floating through my own head. She handed me a good old peanut butter and jelly sandwich,

soft bread cut on the diagonal, wrapped in wax paper and a napkin. At the other corner of the blanket, undecidedly fancier, drinks were being made with tonic water, lemon slices, and fresh mint. Once everything had been passed around, we raised our cups and tapped the rims together. We would eat and sip and chat a bit, then stretch out with our heads together and our bodies fanned outward like a three-pointed star and watch the clouds.

I might mention that there's a name for this hobby, nephology. They kindly indulged my need to drop fun facts into our outings. Eventually, one of us might fall asleep, and the afternoon would drift past as we recharged together. Now we see shapes in clouds because our brains are built to search for patterns and meaning. But we'd learn to witness them. Sweet dreams.