I've noticed that lots of my sleep stories seem to take place in or over water, rivers, oceans, lakes. I guess when you think about it, it makes sense. Water is a lot like sleep when you're on a boat crossing water in the dark. You're in this in-between place. You're not where you were, and you're not where you're going yet. You're just crossing, and there's something really peaceful about that. You can't do anything but be there, letting the water carry you. And we spent our first nine months floating, being rocked by every movement. And our bodies remember that.When we're on a boat at night, everything comes together. The rocking motion, the darkness, the way you have to surrender control and let the boat carry you. You trust the crew, you trust the vessel, and the journey itself becomes the whole point. And that's what tonight's story is about. A ferry crossing through the night. The steady engines, the gentle rocking, the sound of water against the hull. It's designed to help you make your own crossing from waking into sleep. But first, the important reminder. Please make sure you're somewhere safe to fall asleep. There's also a full disclaimer in the show notes. And if by some crazy coincidence you are actually on a ferry tonight, trying to sleep, send me a message and tell me where you're traveling from. And two, I would love to hear about it.And thank you to everyone who follows the show. It truly helps to keep this podcast going. And if you haven't hit the follow button yet, it's easy to do.And it means you'll always have dozens of different journeys to choose from. When you're ready to make that trip from waking into sleep, get yourself comfortable, adjust your pillows, arrange your blankets just the way you like them. This is your time. You're crossing from the busy day into peaceful rest. I want you to take a slow, deep breath in through your nose, and then exhale slowly through your mouth. Imagining you're blowing out four candles, one after the other.And that long, slow exhale is important. With that long, slow exhale, your heart rate will slow down. It activates the part of your nervous system responsible for rest.It's like flipping a switch from alert to calm. So let's do that together. Breathe in slowly, filling your lungs, and then exhale slowly, blowing out these four candles.One, two, three, four. Let's do that together one more time. Breathe in slowly and deeply, and then exhale, blowing out each candle.One, two, three, four. Perfect. Continue breathing this way.Slow, deep breaths with those long exhales as we help your body release any tension it's been holding. Let's start with your jaw. Most of us clench our jaws without even realizing it, especially when we're stressed or concentrating.And your jaw muscles are incredibly strong. And when they're clenched, they create tension that radiates up into your temples and down into your neck. So right now, let your jaw open just slightly.Feel how much lighter your face becomes when those powerful muscles finally let go. And now your shoulders. Notice where they are right now.Are they up near your ears? Most of us carry the weight of our day right here in our shoulders, punching them up without knowing it. It's like we're trying to protect ourselves, trying to make ourselves smaller. But you don't need to do that anymore.Let your shoulders drop down away from your ears. Let your shoulders be heavy. Let's move to your hands.Make a gentle fist right now. Notice the tension in your fingers, your palms, your forearms. This is what tension feels like.We hold it in our hands all day. And now open your hands slowly and let them rest on the bed. Feel the difference.When your hands are relaxed and open, it signals to your brain that you're safe. Just let your fingers be loose and still. Finally, your legs and feet.Your legs have been supporting your entire body weight all day. Your feet have been balancing you, adjusting constantly to keep you upright. Let your legs feel heavy.Let them sink into the mattress. Just let them be soft in your feet. Let them turn out naturally to the sides, completely relaxed.When your legs release like this, it tells your body that you're not going anywhere. You can just be still. Take one more deep breath in.And as you exhale slowly, feel how your entire body has settled. It's heavy and relaxed, ready for the crossing ahead. The car deck fills with the last vehicles of the evening sailing.The air is thick with salt water and diesel fuel. And the metal floor vibrates with the idle of engines somewhere far below. A crew member in an orange vest waves the final car into position and signals up to the bridge. The loading ramp rises with a hydraulic whine. It's a sound of commitment, of departure. Passengers make their way up narrow metal stairwells.Hands trailing along cold railings. Footsteps clanging on steps that smell of paint and sea air. Two levels up, and then three.And then finally emerging onto the main passenger deck. The carpet is worn but clean, patterned in blues and grays, like water and sky. Rows of reclining seats face forward. Some are already occupied. People settling in with blankets draped over armrests, or on their phones, or with paperback books open to marked pages. The fluorescent lights have been dimmed for nighttime, creating a softer atmosphere.Windows line both sides, but they show only reflections now. The interior doubled in dark glass. The engines change pitch. Deeper, the ferry begins to move through the windows. The lights of the terminal start to slide past. Then the lights of the town, growing smaller.And then just darkness. The vast darkness of open water. Crossing has begun.The main passenger lounge stretches the length of the deck. An elderly man sleeps with the hint of a smile on his face. A crossword puzzle completed on his lap.He makes this crossing every month to visit his daughter, and he's learned to appreciate these quiet hours suspended between places. A woman nips under her reading light, her needles clicking steadily. Two teenage boys sit together, occasionally showing each other something on their phones, and then laughing quietly.Brothers, comfortable in each other's company. Toward the back, a small cafeteria area hums with gentle activity. A few passengers sit at bolted down tables.A truck driver doing a crossword over his coffee, content with his solitude. A young couple sharing a sandwich and talking quietly, their heads close together. One level up, the observation lounge offers larger windows and comfortable seating.A woman sits alone with a sketchbook, drawing something from memory. Enjoying this rare time to herself. The engines throb beneath everything.Not loud, but constant. A low, steady vibration that becomes part of the atmosphere. After a few minutes, it's just there.Like breathing. Like a heartbeat. The ferry rises and falls, gently, with the swells.The motion is soothing, like being rocked. It's easy to understand why babies sleep so well in cars, in strollers. This motion is ancient and comforting.A woman walks the corridors, stretching her legs, pausing at the windows to look out at the darkness. She's a nurse, traveling home after a conference, and she's grateful for these quiet hours to decompress. Up on the bridge, crew members keep watch.The space is dimly lit by the glow of instruments. They monitor screens, check readings, guide the ferry through the darkness with practice skill. It's comforting knowing they're there.Alert, while everyone else rests. Down in the engine room, crew members move between the massive engines, checking temperatures, listening for any change in pitch. Everything runs smoothly. The engines are well-maintained, powerful, reliable. And outside, the deck, when the heavy doors open, cold air rushes in. The wind is strong and it smells of salt.At the railing, the ocean reveals itself, vast and dark. The water rushing against the hull, the wake spreading out behind and glowing faintly with phosphorescence. Above, the stars.Without light pollution, the sky is filled with stars. The Milky Way stretches overhead. It's breathtaking. The kind of sky that reminds you how big the world is, how small our daily worries are. After a few minutes, the cold becomes too much. But back inside, the warmth is wonderful. The ferry continues its crossing, carrying everyone through the night. Time moves differently here. The usual markers disappear.Just this. The gentle motion. The hours of crossing. In the cabins, families sleep in narrow bunks. Some dream of the places they're headed. Meetings.Reunions. Homecomings. Others dream of nothing at all.Just deep rest. Children sleep the sleep of childhood. Completely surrendered.Adults sleep lighter. Occasionally shifting. Adjusting.But still, deeply at rest. Down on the car deck. Dogs sleep in back seats and cargo areas.Curled into tight balls or stretched out long. Paws twitching with their own dreams. Patient.And trusting. Waiting for their people to return. On the bridge, a new crew has taken over. The watch changed an hour ago with quiet efficiency. They're just as alert. Just as focused.Bringing everyone safely across. In the engine room, the machinery never stops. The heat is intense.But everything runs exactly as it should. The engines are powerful and steady. Tireless in the galley, someone moves quietly, preparing for breakfast. The work is meditative. Peaceful. The ferry has made this crossing thousands of times. It knows these waters. Knows its path. Outside, the wake continues to trail behind. Flowing softly, the water rushes past. The stars wheel overhead. Orion.The Pleiades. Cassiopeia. The same stars that have guided travelers for thousands of years.And everyone sleeps. Deeply. Peacefully.Trusting in the ferry. In the crew. In the reliable rhythms that carry them through the night.Listen to the rhythm of the ferry. The constant throb of engines. The gentle rocking that never stops.The sound of water against hull. These rhythms work on every body. Lulling.And soothing. Everyone's breathing throughout the ferry has synchronized with the ocean. Slow.And steady. Deep. And even.Rising with the swell. And falling with the descent. Everyone breathing with the ocean itself.With the ancient rhythm of water. Heart beats throughout the ferry. Beats steadily.Not racing. Just beating the way hearts beat in sleep. Reliable.Constant. Everyone throughout the ferry is completely relaxed. Muscles have released all their tension.The chairs support everyone completely. The ferry itself. Cradles. All these sleeping bodies. Holds them safe. Carries them throughout the darkness.This is what comfort looks like. Being carried through darkness while resting. Nothing required.The ferry does the work. The crew guides the way. The sleeping passengers simply rest.The rocking continues. This motion that soothes back and forth. Steady.And eternal. Bodies remember this. Bodies know how to respond.Relax. And sleep. The ocean whispers outside.The sleepers breathe softly. A community of sleepers. All crossing together.All suspended between one place and another. All safe. And held.Thoughts throughout the ferry are dissolving. Becoming less like thoughts and more like dreams. Images drift through minds.Water. Stars. Darkness. Light. They don't form into stories. They just exist.The ferry carries everyone. The ocean holds everyone. All that's needed is rest. The rocking continues. The engines hum. Breathing has slowed even more, deepening. Hearts beat steadily. Bodies lie still and peaceful. The ferry crosses dark water under a sky full of stars. Everyone sleeps deeply, peacefully. The ferry carries everyone deeper into rest. The ocean rocks everyone gently. Sleep holds everyone completely. Safe. Comfortable. Exactly where everyone needs to be. The engines hum. The water moves. The stars turn overhead. And the ferry crosses through the night, carrying its dreamers safely to the other side. I'm Suzanne. This is your ticket to snoozeville. Sleep now. Sleep deeply. Sleep well.