A few years ago, I was on holiday in Mexico, and I spent an entire sunny day on the beach, listening to a true crime podcast, a really scary one. I don't know what I was thinking, because I'm kind of a wuss when it comes to scary things. But anyway, that night, I woke up from a nightmare, screaming, it was so embarrassing, out loud in the hotel room, I was calling for help, and I remember lying there afterwards with my heart pounding, certain, so certain I was in danger, but of course, nothing had happened. I'd just spent eight hours giving my brain the worst material I could, and that's what it had to work with. When I went to sleep, nightmares feel so real, because to your body, it is real. Your heart races, adrenaline floods your system, everything that would happen to your body if you were actually in danger, happens to you. So you wake up with a body that thinks it has, genuinely, just been chased. There is a name for what happened to me, it's called dream incorporation, and it happens because your brain doesn't stop working when you fall asleep, it spends the night going through the day, sorting it, filing it, deciding what to keep, and whatever you've given it is what it has to work with. But dream incorporation also happens in a more immediate way. When you fall asleep, you don't switch off all at once. There's a stretch, right at the edge, when you're not quite awake and not quite under, it has a name, hypnagogia, and it's that floating feeling. When your thoughts are starting to loosen and drift, and you're almost asleep, and in that state, you're still hearing. Hearing is the last sense to go, and it doesn't really go at all. Often you sleep and a part of you is still listening, so whatever is playing in your ear at that moment, sometimes goes directly into what your mind is making, doesn't always happen, but often it does, and it works both ways. We can prime ourselves for good dreams too, because good dreams are one of the great free pleasures of being alive. You know the kind of dreams I mean, the kind you wake up from and you lie very still, eyes shut, trying to get back in. So that's what we're doing tonight. I'm going to spend the next little while filling your head with the nicest things I can think of, and they're also chosen to slow you down and help you relax, so that you feel yourself getting heavier and calmer, but first, my usual reminder to be somewhere safe when listening. This episode uses relaxation techniques and hypnotherapy, so you want to be in your comfortable bed and not anywhere. You need to stay alert, and I wanted to quickly thank listeners Joanne and Kay, who suggested the topic of nightmares. I really appreciate all of you who send me their ideas, and I'm sitting down this week to plan out the rest of this summer's episodes, and I would say that most of what's on the list comes from one of you, to Lila, Blue Sixer, and Loopy, Heather, Abby, Bree, I have all your ideas written down, and E, you too, and if you sent me something and I didn't just say your name, I still have it, I just can't read the whole list, but I've got it, and I'm going to do my best to get to your idea, and now, if you're ready, let's get you settled, get into whatever position you actually sleep in, the position your body feels most comfortable in, and when you're ready, I'd like you to identify the places where the bed is holding you, the parts of you that are actually touching the bed, the back of your head, your shoulder blades, the long stretch of your back, your hips, the backs of your legs, your heels, or if you're on your side, it might be one shoulder, one hip, the outside of one leg, and those are the places where you have already stopped holding yourself up, so find each place, and let it get heavier, feel the weight pressing down on your mattress, and the softness of it, and that feeling of being supported, find your head resting on the pillow, it's one of the heaviest parts of you, and it is being held completely, find your shoulders, and find where they've settled, find your back against the mattress, feel it spread, and sink, and give into it, find your hips, and the heaviness of your hands, wherever they have come to rest, you came here tense, and you came here with a busy mind, but already, your breathing has slowed, and your heart has slowed, and your body has started letting go of things it was holding onto an hour ago, now, I'm going to take you somewhere, and all you have to do is listen, if your mind wanders off, just let it, it'll find its way back on its own, couldn't be easier, the only thing you need to do is listen, you're on a couch, there's a blanket over your legs, and it's raining, it's coming down hard and steady, drumming on the roof, running along the gutters, and spilling out somewhere at the corner of the house, and every so often, the wind gets into it, and throws a handful of it against the glass, the street is dark with water, the trees are heavy with it, and you are not out there, you aren't here, and the house is spotless, you did that last night, you stayed up, and you cleaned the whole place, now the floors are gleaming, and the mirrors have no marks on them, and the kitchen counters are clear, the whole house smells clean, it has that soapy, lemony, just mopped smell that lasts about a day, and is worth every minute it cost you, and you are alone in it, everyone's gone, everyone's away for the whole weekend, and the house is entirely yours, and you brought your blanket to the couch, the soft, heavy one, and you've got it over your legs, and tucked in around your feet, and your show is on, your favorite show, you can drift in and out of it, and you'll still know exactly where you are, somewhere down the hall, the dryer is going, that soft tumbling, over and over, and the click of a zipper, hitting the drum every few turns, nobody wants anything from you today, nobody is going to call, you have the whole weekend, and there's nothing in it, feel how heavy you are on the couch, you're getting sleepy, that middle of the afternoon sleepy, the good kind, and the best part is that you don't have to fight it, there's nothing to stay awake for, you sleep for two hours, and when you wake up, the light has changed, and the rain is still going, and you have no idea what time it is, you lie there for a minute, warm, heavy, blinking, working out where you are, you feel rested in a way you have not felt for months, you just lie there, and you listen to the rain on the roof, and you let yourself come back slowly, and then eventually you go and you deal with the laundry, and it's still warm, you lift an armful out, and it's so warm against your chest, so you push your face into it, and breathe it in, and it smells like clean cotton, and warm air, and that soft clean smell of the sheets you like, and then you put it all away, every piece, and you shut the drawers, and the sheets, the clean ones, they go onto the bed, and you stretch them tight, and smooth them flat with your hands, and you already know that tonight is going to be an absolute pleasure to get into that bed, and later you make some soup, not from a recipe, just what's there, there's an onion going in butter, and it's beginning to smell like something, and you're stirring it slowly in circles, you're not thinking about anything at all, the radio is on low, and there's bread in the oven, and the whole house has started to smell of it, round and round you stir, the steam comes off the pot, and warms your face, and this day is really nothing special, nothing at all has happened, and it is one of the best days you've had in a very long time, when it's ready, you sit down with a bowl of it, and it is so good, hot, and thick, and a little bit salty, and the bread is still warm enough to melt the butter into, and everything feels so contented, and this is probably a good moment to remind you, that even though sometimes it feels like there's a lot wrong in the world, there's a lot right in it too, there will always be autumn, every year without fail, the air changing, and that first moment where it's suddenly sharp, and clean, and it wakes you up just to walk out into it, leaves going gold and rust, and coming down in handfuls when the wind gets into them, the crunch of them under your boots, and your breath coming out in little clouds in front of your face, and there will be full moons every month, whether anyone looks out or not, there will be that first cup of coffee in the morning, and the reason that it is so good, isn't really the coffee, it's the 15 minutes around it, it's the quiet, it's the fact that nothing has gone wrong yet, the day hasn't started, and for those few minutes, it is entirely yours, there will always be dark chocolate that snaps when you break it. There will be the last inch of something good in the tub at the back of the freezer that you forgot about. There will be a song on the radio that stops you exactly where you're standing and you don't want to do anything else while it's still playing. You just have to stand there and listen to the whole thing. There will be the weight of a cat that decides to sleep on you. It picks you out of everyone it could go to and it turns around once or twice and it settles and then it starts to purr.It's one of the most calming sounds there is. And there's a reason for that. A cat only purrs like that when it feels completely safe. So when it's lying on your chest, when it's heavy and rumbling away with its eyes shut, what it's really telling you is that everything is fine. That there's nothing to worry about. Cats are kind of barometer for safety. It has no reason to lie to you. And underneath all of that is the simplest thing of all. It climbed onto you because it loves you and it wanted to be near you. And there are few better feelings in the world than being chosen like that. The love of an animal is one of the great uncomplicated pleasures of a life. And there will be a bed in a hotel that turns out to be so much better than you were expecting. Maybe you were traveling all day. The airport, the flight, the sitting and the lining up and the carrying. And you arrived worn out and a little bit grubby and not expecting much. And the shower turns out to have the most tremendous pressure. It is hot and endless. And you stand in that far longer than you need to. And when you finally pull the curtains in your room, they're the proper blackout kind. And the room goes completely, perfectly dark. And the bed is enormous. Cool, crisp sheets. More pillows than one person could ever need. And there is nowhere you have to be in the morning. So you get in and you stretch all the way out and you cannot believe your luck. There will be finding $20 in a coat you haven't worn since last winter. There will be the specific quiet of the first proper snow. When the whole street goes soft and no cars are moving and the only sound is your own boots. There will be a bath that you run too hot on purpose with a cold drink balanced on the edge of it. There will be dogs and their paws which smell a little bit like tortilla chips and nobody knows why.Something about the sun and the bacteria and the salt. Doesn't matter why. What matters is that you can put your nose to the paw of a sleeping dog. And it will smell like warm corn chips and it will make you oddly happy. And this is one of the great facts of being alive. There will be the smell of tomato plants on your hands and cut grass and a barbecue. Two gardens over on a summer night. And there will be someone who lets you into their lane and lifts a hand to say, don't worry about it. There will be a stranger who holds a door. There will be a person who catches your eye when something ridiculous happens in a lineup and the two of you don't say a word and you both know exactly what the other one is thinking. There will be the smell of a bookstore or an old paperback. A dry, sweet, vanilla smell that comes off the pages when you fan them. There will be the satisfaction of a pen that writes very well. The pen you hoard. The one you would fight someone over. There will be a hot water bottle against cold feet. And there will be the first bite of buttered toast. There will be a hairdresser washing your hair in the way your old scalp gives into it and the way nobody has done that for you since. You were very small. There will be the moment on a plane when the wheels leave the ground and there will be the first time you smell wood smoke in September. And there will be a stranger's baby who stares at you over a shoulder in a crowd and then, for no reason at all, decides to smile at you. There will be clean sheets and there will be laughing until you can't get a breath in and your face aches from laughing so hard. And then there is you. The world is better for having you in it. And you don't have to do a single thing tonight. All you have to do is sleep. You don't have to hold on to anything.You don't have to hold on to the rain or the soup or the list of good things. You don't have to keep them in order. You don't have to remember them in the morning. They're in there now and your mind knows what to do with them and it will get on with it whether you're sleeping or not. Feel how heavy you are. Your legs are heavy.Your arms are heavy. Your hands are soft and open. It happened on its own while I was talking. Somewhere in your mind, it's still raining. It's going to rain all night. It's on the roof and against the window.And you are inside, warm and dry. And there is nowhere you have to be. You're safe here.Your house is quiet. Your room is dark. And your bed is warm. There's coffee waiting for you in the morning. And there's a song that you love that you'll hear again one day when you don't expect it. The world is still full of good things, still out there. And in the morning, you will wait, feeling rested. You may not remember any of this. Most of what you dream tonight, you'll never get back.And that's all right. Dreams aren't really made to be kept. But something stays.You'll wake with the sense that you've been somewhere and that it was somewhere good and that you were safe the whole time you were there. It'll sit with you through the first cup of coffee. And you won't quite be able to name it.And you'll notice things. That's what a good night does to a person. You'll notice the light coming into the kitchen. You'll notice that someone was kind to you. And you'll notice the small, very ordinary things you walk past a hundred times without ever really seeing. And maybe one of them, for some reason, will make you feel glad. That's what a good day is made of. And a good week. And in the end, a good life. Outside your window, the world is going quiet. Streetlights are on. And the houses are dark.And all up and down the street, people are doing exactly what you're doing. Going to bed. Turning off the light. A whole town of people. And a whole country. All of them lying down in the dark. At the end of the same day, all of them letting go of everything. All at once. You're a part of that.You always have been. Every night of your life, you've joined all of them. Without ever thinking about it. And the oldest and most ordinary thing that people do. So there really is nowhere you have to be. But here, under the covers. Warm. Heavy. Done with the day. There's a reason it feels so good to lie down at the end of the day. Your whole body has been waiting for it. Now it has it. And every part of you is sinking down into it. And letting go. The house is quiet.The street is quiet. All is well. And all will be well.