Nothing much happens: bedtime stories to help you sleep - The Sleeper Car

Episode Date: January 1, 2024

Our story tonight is called The Sleeper Car, and it’s a story about a trip where the mode of travel is more important than the destination. It’s also about crisp ironed linens, a little notebook t...hat fits perfectly into your pocket, the mystery of strangers across the dining car, and waking up to a snowy sunrise.  Our charity this week is Guide Dogs for the Blind. Everyone deserves to move through the world safely and confidently, and they are helping. https://www.guidedogs.com Subscribe for ad-free, bonus, and extra-long episodes now, as well as ad-free and early episodes of Stories from the Village of Nothing Much! Search for NMH Premium channel on Apple podcast or follow the link below. https://www.nothingmuchhappens.com/premium-subscription Listen to our new show Stories from the Village of Nothing Much on your favorite podcast app. https://www.nothingmuchhappens.com/stories-from-the-villagePurchase Our Book: https://bit.ly/Nothing-Much-HappensSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

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Starting point is 00:00:00 Welcome to Season 13 of Bedtime Stories for Everyone, in which nothing much happens. You feel good, and then you fall asleep. I'm Katherine Nicolai. I read and write all the stories you hear on Nothing Much Happens. Audio engineering is by Bob Wittersheim. Wow. Thirteen seasons. Over 200 episodes. One fantastic book, if I do say so myself.
Starting point is 00:00:42 And now, three weekly shows, all from a little idea I had in the middle of the night. Thank you for listening and for sharing what we do. It helps us grow and provide more comfort and enjoyment to others. Our newest show is called Stories from the Village of Nothing Much, and it's a daytime version of our bedtime stories. It joins First This, our 10-minute meditation show, in giving you lots of ways, morning to night, to feel good and feel connected to what is good in the world. They're all available for free wherever you listen.
Starting point is 00:01:36 Or you can subscribe for ad-free and bonus early release episodes through the link in our show notes or by searching NMH Premium Plus on Apple Podcasts. Our charity this week is Guide Dogs for the Blind. Everyone deserves to move through the world safely and confidently, and they are helping. Find a link to them in our show notes. Now, I have a story to tell you. It's a soft place to rest your mind,
Starting point is 00:02:09 and just by listening, you'll be training your brain to settle and to sleep. I'll tell the story twice, a little slower the second time through. If you wake again in the night, you can turn a story right back on, or sometimes it's enough just to think through any part of it that you can remember. This sleep training will improve with time, so give yourself a few weeks
Starting point is 00:02:42 of regular use to really get the hang of it. Now, get as comfortable as you can. Lights out, maybe a sleep mask or a teddy bear, or just the right pillow in the right spot. And then let your whole body relax. Whatever today was like is what today was like. And now we're here and it's okay to let go. Take a slow, deep breath in through your nose.
Starting point is 00:03:29 And sigh from your mouth. One more time, breathe in. Out with sound. Good. Our story tonight is called The Sleeper Car, and it's a story about a trip where the mode of travel is more important than the destination. It's also about crisp, ironed linens, a little notebook that fits perfectly into your pocket, the mystery of strangers across the dining car, and waking up to a snowy sunrise.
Starting point is 00:04:17 The Sleeper Car From the window, a broad white landscape stretched out under the afternoon sun. We'd just cut through a small city and I could still make out a few buildings in the distance. I loved passing through towns, watching cars waiting at the crossings catching a glimpse of people walking on the city streets with bags slung over their arms caught up in their own routines seeing people in this way, a single frame of their life,
Starting point is 00:05:10 while my own blazed past, it reminded me that we were all our own main characters. And I found myself charmed by the faces I saw and the stories that might go with them. I was still thinking about the last town, the flash of their city square as we sped through, their tree still lit
Starting point is 00:05:44 and the ice rink in front of it swirling with skaters sped through. Their tree still lit, and the ice rink in front of it swirling with skaters as the sun began to sink lower and an orange glow fell on my face. We were a little more than a day into our journey, with a couple more to go before the last stop. And I was thoroughly enjoying train travel. I thought I might be bored, but bored was the last thing I was.
Starting point is 00:06:27 I was relaxed, though. Compared to driving, following directions, watching for traffic and road closures, this was positively meditative. The scenery was always changing, though the pace was steady, and I spent a good deal of time just looking out the window, either in the dining car or here in our compartment.
Starting point is 00:07:08 We'd splurged a bit for this trip, and since the mode of travel meant more to us than our destination itself, it had proved worth it. We had a small stateroom with a wide bed, a neat little washroom, and a sofa where we'd sipped our coffee this morning. I'd never been in such a cozy, well-thought-out space as this little room. It was engineered for comfort and to fit well within the limited space,
Starting point is 00:08:00 and also with a bit of nostalgia in mind. And for me, this was nostalgia for something I'd never actually had or known. I'd seen elegant train travel in black and white movies, and read about it in books, but never lived it. And now that I was here, I found it lived up to every expectation and then some. The linens on the bed were ironed and crisp. The pastries that had come with our coffee this morning were delicate and filled with the best apricot preserves I'd ever tasted.
Starting point is 00:09:02 There was a light scent in the carpeted halls that reminded me of a library. And when the train rushed through a tunnel and the lights dimmed to a faint golden glow. I felt like I had fallen through the pages of a book, that I might slide open the door of our compartment and find a detective twisting his mustache and eyeing a mysterious heiress who was traveling under a false name. Maybe, I thought, I should write a novel as we chugged through the countryside. My imagination was clearly running away with me. Might as well put it to good use. So as we got ready to head to the dining car, I took a little notebook and pen from my luggage and tucked it into my pocket. The walk from the sleeper car
Starting point is 00:10:30 down to the dining car passed through a few others. Generally, they were just passenger coaches lined with seats. But one was a sort of lounge with sofas and cocktail tables. A chess game was being played by two older men, one with thick glasses and the other with a salt-and-pepper beard.
Starting point is 00:11:09 I stopped in the passage between cars and pulled out my notebook. What are you doing? Making notes. I'm writing a mystery novel, and those two? I tilted my head toward the chess players behind us. They're both suspects.
Starting point is 00:11:35 We chuckled as I put my notebook away and passed through into the dining car. The sun was still an inch above the horizon, and the fields around us were layered with snow. Flakes were falling past the windows, and their motion, plus our own added up to a feeling of being in a snow globe. And I imagined us sitting on a bookshelf in a library somewhere, freshly shaken as the train circled and circled the same small bit of track. We were headed toward the mountains
Starting point is 00:12:36 and would be climbing through the night. I hoped I'd wake tomorrow in time for what I guessed would be a pretty spectacular sunrise. The tables were laid with white tablecloths edged in dark green that matched the upholstery on the bankettes. We were led to a table at the far end of the car where we could see all of our fellow passengers,
Starting point is 00:13:20 perfect for my research. And when we sat, I tucked my notebook under the edge of my plate for easy reach. We ordered fancy drinks that bubbled in old-fashioned glasses. While we sipped, we made up stories
Starting point is 00:13:49 about the other diners. There was a mother and daughter at a table across from us, and they seemed pensive as they spooned up their soup. Quiet, unassuming. Nothing to see there, I asked over my glass. Hmm, that's what they want you to think.
Starting point is 00:14:20 Probably planning a heist of the jewels in the train safe. I wrote heist, jewels, safe in my notebook. The snow kept falling as we dined. Asparagus soup, arancini with a tangy sauce, roasted portobello and farro, and a thin slice of very rich chocolate tart. At times we forgot to imagine storylines and just got lost staring out at the mountains.
Starting point is 00:15:13 A faint halo of moon behind the clouds and our hands lazily touching across the table. The rocking of the train was making me drowsy, and finally we rose and thanked our waiter and strolled back to the sleeper car. Our bed had been turned down and the sconces dimmed. I stood by the window and watched the scenery race by, thinking about how sweet it would be to pull on my pajamas and climb up into the big, soft bed. To turn out the lights and feel the sway of the train.
Starting point is 00:16:19 To hear the bells tolling at the crossings in my sleep. I set my notebook beside the bed, thinking that I might dream up a whole new story overnight, and wake to find myself in a new world. The Sleeper car. From the window, a broad, white landscape stretched out under the afternoon sun. We'd just cut through a small city
Starting point is 00:17:08 and I could still make out a few tall buildings in the distance. I loved passing through towns, watching cars waiting at the crossings, catching a glimpse of people walking on the city streets with bags slung over their arms, caught up in their own routines. Seeing people in this way, a single frame of their life,
Starting point is 00:17:58 while my own blazed past, it reminded me that we were all our own main characters. And I found myself charmed by the faces I saw and the stories that might go with them. I was still thinking about the last town, the flash of their city square as we sped through. Their tree still lit, and the ice rink in front of it swirling with skaters as the sun began to sink lower and an orange glow fell on my face. We were a little more than a day into our journey, with a couple more yet to go before the last stop, and I was thoroughly enjoying train travel.
Starting point is 00:19:22 I'd thought I might be bored, but bored was the last thing I was. I was relaxed, though. Compared to driving, following directions, watching for traffic and road closures, this was positively meditative. The scenery was always changing, though the pace was steady, and I spent a good deal of time just looking out of the window, either in the mode of travel meant more to us than the destination itself, it had proved worth it. We had a small stateroom with a wide bed, a neat little washroom,
Starting point is 00:20:49 and a sofa, where we'd sipped our coffee this morning. I'd never been in such a cozy, well-thought-out space as this little room. It was engineered for comfort, and to fit well within the limited space, and also with a bit of nostalgia in mind. And for me, this was nostalgia for something I'd never actually had or known. I'd seen elegant train travel in black and white movies, and read about it in books, but never lived it.
Starting point is 00:21:52 And now that I was here, I found it lived up to every expectation, and then some. The linens on the bed were ironed and crisp. The pastries that had come with our coffee this morning were delicate and filled with the best apricot preserves I'd ever tasted. There was a light sent in the carpeted halls that reminded me of a library. And when the train rushed through a tunnel, and the light dimmed to a faint golden glow, I felt like I had fallen through the pages of a book, that I might slide open the door of the compartment and find a detective twisting his mustache and eyeing a mysterious heiress
Starting point is 00:23:15 who is traveling under a false name. Maybe, I thought I should write a novel as we chugged through the countryside my imagination was clearly running away with me might as well put it to good use so as we got ready might as well put it to good use.
Starting point is 00:23:50 So as we got ready to head to the dining car, I took a little notebook and pen from my luggage and tucked it into my pocket. The walk from the sleeper car down to the dining car passed through a few others. Generally, they were just passenger coaches lined with seats, but one was a sort of lounge with sofas and cocktail tables. A chess game was being played by two older men, one with thick glasses and the other with a salt and pepper beard. I stopped in the passage between cars and pulled out my notebook.
Starting point is 00:24:55 What are you doing? Making notes. I'm writing a mystery novel. And those two I tilted my head toward the chess players behind us they're both suspects we chuckled
Starting point is 00:25:18 as I put my notebook away and passed through into the dining car the sun was still an inch and passed through into the dining car. The sun was still an inch above the horizon, and the fields around us were layered with snow. Flakes were falling past the windows, and their motion plus our own added up to a feeling of being inside a snow globe.
Starting point is 00:25:59 I imagined us sitting on a bookshelf in a library somewhere, freshly shaken as the train circled and circled the same small bit of track. We were headed toward the mountains and would be climbing through the night. I hoped I'd wake tomorrow in time for what I guessed would be a pretty spectacular sunrise. The tables were laid with white tablecloths, edged in dark green, that matched the upholstery on the banquets.
Starting point is 00:27:02 We were led to a table at the far end of the car where we could see all of our fellow passengers, perfect for my research. And when we sat, I tucked my notebook under the edge of my plate for easy reach. We ordered fancy drinks that bubbled in old-fashioned glasses. While we sipped, we made up stories about the other diners. There was a mother and daughter at a table across from us, and they seemed pensive as they spooned up their soup. Quiet, unassuming, nothing to see there, I asked over my glass.
Starting point is 00:28:19 That's what they want you to think. Probably planning a heist of the jewels in the train safe. I wrote heist, jewels, safe in the notebook. The snow kept falling as we dined. Asparagus soup. Arancini with a tangy sauce. Roasted portobello and farro. And a thin slice of very rich chocolate tart. At times, we forgot to imagine storylines,
Starting point is 00:29:13 and just got lost, staring out at the mountains, a faint halo of moon behind the clouds, and our hands lazily touching across the table. The rocking of the train was making me drowsy. And finally we rose and thanked our waiter and strolled back to the sleeper car. Our bed had been turned down and the sconces dimmed.
Starting point is 00:30:01 I stood by the window and watched the scenery race by, thinking about how sweet it would be to pull on my pajamas and climb up into the big, soft bed, to turn out the lights and feel the sway of the train, to hear the bells tolling at the crossings in my sleep. I set my notebook beside the bed, thinking that I might dream up a whole new story overnight and wake to find myself in a new world. Sweet dreams.

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