Nothing much happens: bedtime stories to help you sleep - Halloween, in an Old House

Episode Date: October 29, 2018

Our story tonight is called "Halloween, in an Old House" and it’s a story about making friends with whoever you share your space with. It’s also about getting to be someone else for a bit and the contagious excitement of children on one of their favorite nights of the year. So get cozy and ready to sleep. See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.Purchase Our Book: https://bit.ly/Nothing-Much-HappensSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Welcome to Bedtime Stories for Grownups, in which nothing much happens, you feel good, and then you fall asleep. All stories are written and read by me, Katherine Nicolai, with audio engineering by Bob Wittersheim. Our podcast is sponsored by you, our listeners, through patreon.com. If you appreciate what we do and would like to become a sponsor for as little as two dollars a month, visit patreon.com slash nothingmuchhappens. Your support makes it possible for us to produce more stories more frequently. Thank you for listening and for sharing our stories with anyone you know who likes relaxation and good sleep. You can also follow us on Instagram and Facebook for an extra bit of coziness.

Let me explain a bit about how to use this podcast. Just like when you were a child being tucked in for bed, you're about to hear a story to send you off to dreamland. The story is meant to be a soft landing place for your mind, so that instead of circling through the same thoughts you've been stuck in all day, you can rest in a sweet, peaceful place. I'll tell our story twice, and I'll go a bit slower the second time through. If you find yourself still awake at the end of the first or second telling, don't worry. Take your mind back to the beginning of the story

and walk yourself back through the details that you remember, especially any bit that felt particularly cozy. You're training your brain and body to wind down, and the more often you do it, the faster you will fall asleep. So have a bit of patience at the beginning. And if you find yourself awake again later in the night, think back through the story to go right back to sleep. Now it's time to turn off the light and put away anything you've been playing with or looking at. Take

some time to cozy your body down into your preferred sleeping position. Get the right pillow in the right spot and let everything relax. In time all of this becomes a signal for your brain and that that signal says, it's time for sleep. Now let's take a deep breath in through the nose. And then a soft sigh out of the mouth. Good. Do that one more time. Breathe in. and out.

Our story tonight is called Halloween in an Old House. And it's a story about making friends with whoever you share your space with. It's also about getting to be someone else for a bit, and the contagious excitement of children on one of their favorite nights of the year. Halloween in an Old House Years ago, while traveling through Europe in my late teens, I'd stepped down onto a train platform and been stopped in my tracks by the thought that, in that moment, I could be anybody.

None of the people spilling past from the trains around me knew anything about me. I could reinvent myself if I liked, claim a different name, speak with an accent, be brave about things I hadn't been brave about before, or just try on a different kind of life. Isn't that part of the appeal of Halloween. A chance to try on something different. A mask, a costume. And the leeway of the day, us allowing each other a bit of strangeness. I thought about it while I looked through my closet a few hours before the trick or treating was likely to begin. I never bought costumes.

I'd rather some old clothes creatively put together than something from a plastic bag. I pushed through the hangers and found a black overcoat that could be made to look a bit like a witch's robe. I clucked my tongue, not a witch again. Past that I found an old dress, long and scarlet, cut a bit close with a high waist. All right, all right, I'd had a pride and prejudice phase. We were all young once. On a hook beside it was a crown, silly, golden, and bedazzled, something I'd been given to wear at a bachelorette night out

and had somehow made it home with. I looked at the crown and the dark red dress and slipped a necklace off a hook, a costume piece with a big red heart hanging from it. Queen of hearts, I said aloud. Bump, said the attic. Thank you for your opinion, I smiled up at the ceiling above. The attic didn't usually have much to say. Once, maybe twice a day, there was a soft, inconspicuous bump.

As if someone had just set their coffee mug down a bit hard on a table, or closed a book for the night. In fact, usually it was an evening ritual. Ten minutes or so before bedtime, I'd hear that muffled thump, and I'd set down my book and call out, Me too, then. Lights out, shall we? Sleep tight. It was an old house, and it was likely to have the strange sounds and flickering wiring that old houses do. But honestly, that bump had always felt like a friendly wave, from a neighbor that you know by sight but not by name. We nodded at each other, then moved on with our days.

And besides, everyone has to live somewhere. So queen of hearts it was then. That was decided on. I took the dress out to the landing where a wide window looked down to the street. I opened it and let the cool, spicy Halloween night air in. I hung the dress from the window sash to let it air out and leaned out a moment, elbows on the sill, to watch the street. Neighbors were setting out pumpkins on stoops, and children were stepping off the bus, kicking through and falling into piles of leaves, dressed already in their costumes. I remembered that giddy thrill of being allowed to wear my costume to school,

and a whole school day lost to parties and parades and candy. The excitement of children is completely untempered, undiluted, and even at this distance, it was contagious. I drummed my fingers on the sill, then spun on my heel and headed down into the kitchen. The pumpkin carving was done. I'd done that earlier, an old monster movie playing in the background, while I scooped out the seeds and cut silly faces in. The seeds were roasting in the oven now, and by the smell, they were just about done.

I'd coated them with olive oil and sea salt and black pepper, and they were crispy, and when I popped a few into my mouth they sizzled on my tongue deliciously. I spooned them into a bowl for snacking on while I handed out treats. I bustled around the house lighting candles and getting my giant treat bowl ready I took out my pumpkins and set them out on the front steps amusing myself for a while, setting them up in different scenarios This pumpkin is in love with that one, and this one's jealous I was having a bit too much fun for a grown-up alone on her porch on Halloween, but I looked around and didn't see anyone watching, so I carried on for a bit.

The light was changing. At this time of year, sunset happened in just a few minutes, and dusk would go to darkness soon. I lit the candles and the jack-o'-lanterns and rushed back upstairs to get into my dress and crown. The landing was properly chilly now, and I closed the window and pulled my dress down from its spot. As I turned to head back to my room, I stopped short. The attic stairs had dropped down from the ceiling and were resting on the landing floor. They were that old sort of retractable steps. You pulled a cord from the ceiling to release, but I hadn't pulled the cord. I took a deep breath.

Very well, I said calmly. I suppose if there were one night of the year when you are allowed to act up a bit, it would be Halloween night. I took the following silence for agreement. I edged around the steps and into my room, closing the door behind me as I got into my dress. There was a lingering chill in my body that was certain.

But I remembered the excitement of the kids gearing up for their neighborhood prowl and how it had gotten into my system a bit, and thought it must be even more contagious than I'd realized. I settled my crown onto my head and looped the silly heart necklace around my throat, slipped my feet into some old red velvet slippers, and heard the first call of trick-or-treat from the front door. We'd better get down there, I called out. Bump.

Halloween in an old house Years ago, while traveling through Europe in my late teens, I'd stepped down onto a train platform and been stopped in my tracks by the thought that, in that moment, I could be anybody. None of the people spilling past from the trains around me. Knew anything about me. I could reinvent myself if I liked. Claim a different name. Speak with an accent.

Be brave about things I hadn't been brave about before. Or just try on a different kind of life? Isn't that part of the appeal of Halloween? A chance to try on something different, a mask, a costume, and the leeway of the day, us allowing each other a little bit of strangeness. I thought about it while I looked through my closet,

a few hours before the trick-or-treating was likely to begin. I never bought costumes. I'd rather some old clothes, creatively put together than something from a plastic bag. I pushed through the hangers and found a black overcoat that could be made to look a bit like a witch's robe. I clucked my tongue.

Not a witch again. Past that, I found an old dress Long and scarlet Cut a bit close with a high waist All right, all right I'd had a pride and prejudice phase We were all young once On a hook beside it was a crown

Silly, golden, and bedazzled On a hook beside it was a crown, silly, golden, and bedazzled, something I had been given to wear at a bachelorette night out and had somehow made it home with. I looked at the crown and the dark red dress and slipped a necklace off a hook, a costume piece with a big red heart hanging from it. Queen of hearts, I said aloud. Bump, said the attic.

Thank you for your opinion, I smiled up at the ceiling above. The attic didn't usually have much to say. Once, maybe twice a day, there was a soft, inconspicuous bump. As if someone had just set their coffee mug down a bit hard on a table or closed a book for the night. In fact, usually it was an evening ritual, ten minutes or so before bedtime. I'd hear that muffled thump, and I'd set down my book and call out, Me too, then. Lights out, shall we? Sleep tight. It was an old house, and it was likely to have the strange sounds and flickering wiring that old houses do. But honestly, that bump had always felt like a friendly wave from a neighbor that you know by sight, but not by name.

We nodded at each other, then moved on with our days, and besides, everyone has to live somewhere. So queen of hearts it was then. That was decided on. I took the dress out to the landing, where a wide window looked down to the street. I opened it and let the cool, spicy Halloween night air in. I hung the dress from the window sash to let it air out and leaned out a moment, elbows on the sill to watch the street. Neighbors were setting out pumpkins on stoops, and children were stepping off the bus, kicking through and falling into piles of leaves dressed already in their costumes. I remembered that giddy thrill of being allowed to wear my costume to school, and a whole school day lost to parties and parades and candy.

The excitement of children is completely untempered, undiluted, and even at this distance it was contagious. I drummed my fingers on the sill, then spun on my heel and headed down into the kitchen. The pumpkin carving was done. I'd done that earlier, an old monster movie playing in the background while I scooped out the seeds and cut silly faces in. The seeds were roasting in the oven now, and by the smell they were just about done.

I'd coated them with olive oil and sea salt and black pepper, and they were crispy, and when I popped a few into my mouth, they sizzled on my tongue deliciously. I spooned them into a bowl for snacking on while I handed out treats. I bustled around the house, lighting candles and getting my giant treat bowl ready. I took out my pumpkins, set them up on my front steps, amusing myself for a while, setting them up in different scenarios. This pumpkin is in love with that one, and this one's jealous. I was having a bit too much fun for a grown-up alone on her porch on Halloween. But I looked around and didn't see anyone watching, so I carried on for a bit.

The light was changing. At this time of year, sunset happened in just a few minutes, and dusk would go to darkness soon. I lit the candles and the jack-o'-lanterns and rushed back upstairs to get into my dress and crown. The landing was properly chilly now, and I closed the window and pulled my dress down from its spot. As I turned to head back to my room, I stopped short. The attic stairs had dropped down from the ceiling and were resting on the landing floor. They were that old sort of retractable steps. You pulled a cord from the ceiling to release. But I hadn't pulled the cord. I took a deep breath. Very well, I said calmly.

I suppose if there were one night of the year when you are allowed to act up a bit, it would be Halloween night. I took the following silence for agreement. I edged around the steps and into my room, closing the door behind me as I got into my dress. There was a lingering chill in my body, that was certain, but I remembered the excitement of the kids gearing up for their neighborhood prowl, and how it had gotten into my system just a bit ago, and thought that it must be even more contagious than I'd realized. I settled my crown onto my head and looped the silly heart necklace around my throat, slipped my feet into some old red velvet slippers,

and heard the first call of trick or treat from the front door. We'd better get down there, I called out. Bump. Sweet dreams.