Speaker 1: Welcome to Bedtime Stories for grown ups, in which nothing
Speaker 1: much happens, you feel good, and then you fall asleep.
Speaker 1: All stories are written and read by me, Catherine Nikolay,
Speaker 1: with audio engineering by Bob Wittersheim. If you enjoy our stories,
Speaker 1: please share them any way you can with anyone who
Speaker 1: likes relaxation and good sleep, and follow us on Facebook
Speaker 1: and Instagram for some extra coziness. Now, let me say
Speaker 1: a bit about how to use this podcast. I have
Speaker 1: a story to tell you, and if you relax and
Speaker 1: follow along with the sound of my voice, it'll take
Speaker 1: the place of the stories that have buzzed in your
Speaker 1: head all day, and before you know it, you'll be
Speaker 1: drifting off to sleep. I'll tell the story twice, and
Speaker 1: I'll go a little bit slower the second time through.
Speaker 1: If you find that you are still awake at the
Speaker 1: end of the second telling, not to worry, that's just mine.
Speaker 1: Just walk yourself back through any of the details that
Speaker 1: you remember, and before you know it, you'll be waking
Speaker 1: up tomorrow feeling refreshed and relaxed. Each time you do this,
Speaker 1: you are training your brain to shut off faster and
Speaker 1: more completely, and finding deep, RESTful sleep will soon become
Speaker 1: the norm for you. Now it's time to turn off
Speaker 1: the light, take one last sip of water, and snuggle
Speaker 1: down into your favorite sleeping position. Get your pillow in
Speaker 1: the perfect spot, and take a slow, deep breath in
Speaker 1: through your nose and out through your mouth. Nice, do
Speaker 1: that one more time. Breathe in and out. Good. Our
Speaker 1: story to night is called Bustle in the City, and
Speaker 1: it's a story about watching the streets of a down
Speaker 1: town come to life on a dark December night. It's
Speaker 1: also about the merriness of seeing friends at the height
Speaker 1: of the holiday season, the quiet refuge of a room
Speaker 1: of one's own, and sending your love in a letter
Speaker 1: to someone far far away. Bustle in the City. From
Speaker 1: the frosty window of my little apartment, I could see
Speaker 1: through the streets of down Town into the park where
Speaker 1: the big city Christmas tree was being strung with lights.
Speaker 1: It had come in on a long flat bed truck
Speaker 1: this morning, and since then clusters of people bundled in
Speaker 1: coats had busied themselves around it. It had taken a
Speaker 1: while and some yelling and frantic arm waving from the
Speaker 1: people in charge, but now it stood straight and tall
Speaker 1: in the middle of the park, and in a few
Speaker 1: hours it would be lit for the first time this season.
Speaker 1: I stepped back from the window and looked around at
Speaker 1: my own snug space, which I had just finished decorating.
Speaker 1: Strings of colored fairy lights circled around the windows and
Speaker 1: stretched across the bricks and beams of my old apartment.
Speaker 1: My little tree, set up on a table by the
Speaker 1: window with just lights and some paper ornaments i'd cut myself,
Speaker 1: blinked merrily, and I knew my neighbor and her little
Speaker 1: girl in the apartment across the street could see it
Speaker 1: from their window, and I liked that. I took the
Speaker 1: last sip from my cup of cinnamon coffee and set
Speaker 1: it in the sink. I was meeting some friends in
Speaker 1: the park for the tree lighting, but first had a
Speaker 1: bit of shopping to do, so I tied on my boots,
Speaker 1: wrapped my coat and scarf tied around me, found the
Speaker 1: mittens i'd somehow not lost yet, and headed out. I
Speaker 1: lived on the third floor of an old brick building
Speaker 1: right in the center of the city. There were only
Speaker 1: a few apartments in the building, all like mine, little
Speaker 1: rooms with all ceilings and old wood floors. I took
Speaker 1: the stairs down to the street and stepped out into
Speaker 1: the afternoon air. It was cold, and I filled my lungs.
Speaker 1: I could smell the chilled, clean scent of snow in
Speaker 1: the air, and the fresh green pine scent of the
Speaker 1: tree that would be lit to night. On the street
Speaker 1: level of our building, we had a sweet little book
Speaker 1: shop that I stopped into at least once a week.
Speaker 1: They were open late to night, and I looked in
Speaker 1: through the shop front and watched a few people browsing
Speaker 1: and reading. They had a reading nook set right into
Speaker 1: the front window of the shop, with a broad wooden
Speaker 1: bench and a curved canopy of walnut above it. A
Speaker 1: boy in his teens sat in it, engrossed in a
Speaker 1: book about a star ship and admission to Mars. I
Speaker 1: saw the owner of the shop behind the register, and
Speaker 1: we waved at each other, and I started to walk.
Speaker 1: The streets were busy, people shopping, looking at the window displays,
Speaker 1: and bumping into friends on the corners. I had a
Speaker 1: favorite shop on the next street. They sold pretty, stationary,
Speaker 1: funny old cards and a strange collection of music, and
Speaker 1: nice smelling soaps and potted plants, and handed its scarves
Speaker 1: I had a feeling that the owner just randomly bought
Speaker 1: anything he liked and put it out without any sort
Speaker 1: of plan. Sometimes the best plan is no plan. I
Speaker 1: was looking for a card for a friend of mine
Speaker 1: who lived on the other side of the world. I
Speaker 1: didn't send many Chris Miss cards, but I wanted to
Speaker 1: send one to her. I liked thinking of her opening
Speaker 1: her letterbox and seeing my handwriting on the envelope, and
Speaker 1: feeling like she was home. I thumbed through the cards
Speaker 1: and found one with a vintage illustration that reminded me
Speaker 1: of my little tree up in the window. I bought
Speaker 1: it and tucked it into my bag and stepped back
Speaker 1: out onto the streets. I stopped in a few more
Speaker 1: shops on my way to my friends. I bought a
Speaker 1: pair of earrings to send to my sister, a book
Speaker 1: about identifying native birds for a friend, and on a
Speaker 1: whim a jig saw puzzle for the little girl. Across
Speaker 1: the street, I could hear music coming from the park.
Speaker 1: It was getting darker, and I made my way through
Speaker 1: the bustling crowds to the center of town. I spotted
Speaker 1: my friends clustered around the front door of a coffee
Speaker 1: shop across from the park, and I called out to them.
Speaker 1: This was a yearly tradition. Sometimes we got dinner, Sometimes
Speaker 1: we sat in the pub all night, but always we
Speaker 1: watched the tree lighting and shared some holiday cheer. We
Speaker 1: were a big group and took over some seats and
Speaker 1: benches around a heater on the edge of the park.
Speaker 1: Some one had thought a head and brought a thermis
Speaker 1: of hot chocolate and some paper cups. We passed it
Speaker 1: around and sent a few of our number out to
Speaker 1: the street vendors for popcorn and those hat candied nuts
Speaker 1: that they tie into paper cones. The square around us
Speaker 1: was filling with people, more friends, shopkeepers and people I
Speaker 1: passed on the street every day. More families with kids
Speaker 1: sitting on shoulders to get a good view of the tree.
Speaker 1: It was almost time. The band got a bit louder,
Speaker 1: and the crowd turned its attention as one. Someone with
Speaker 1: an old microphone was speaking on a fuzzy, far off speaker,
Speaker 1: telling us what we already knew. The holidays were here.
Speaker 1: In the dark nights, there was also light and coming
Speaker 1: together to share it was a good idea. The drum rolled,
Speaker 1: the kids clapped and stopped in a fever of anticipation.
Speaker 1: There was a moment of quiet all over the city,
Speaker 1: and then the lights came on. A tower of a
Speaker 1: tree stood lit in her glory in our park, and
Speaker 1: we all clapped and whistled our approval. Not long after
Speaker 1: we called it a night. We squeezed hands and hugged
Speaker 1: and pressed red cheeked to red cheek, and said happy holidays,
Speaker 1: and be safe and sleep tight. The streets were looped
Speaker 1: with strings of lights, and I took my time walking
Speaker 1: back to my flat, looking in the shop windows and
Speaker 1: smelling the good smells of the venders and the cold
Speaker 1: night air along the way. I liked my life. I
Speaker 1: liked to be out in the bustle of the city,
Speaker 1: out with my friends, busy and merry on a December night.
Speaker 1: But I also liked the quiet solitude of my little apartment,
Speaker 1: the stillness, the simple decorations I'd set up, the sound
Speaker 1: of the old radiators hissing with steam. The book shop
Speaker 1: was closed up now, the streets were quieting, and just
Speaker 1: as I turned to go in, a few silent flakes
Speaker 1: floated down, and I caught them in the palm of
Speaker 1: my mittened hand. I smiled up at the street lights
Speaker 1: showing a pattern of fluffy flakes coming down. I couldn't
Speaker 1: wait to watch them from my favorite window upstairs. Curled
Speaker 1: into my chair with a blanket tucked in around me,
Speaker 1: I turned the key in the lock and tucked myself
Speaker 1: in for the night bustle in the city. From the
Speaker 1: frosty window of my little apartment, I could see through
Speaker 1: the streets of downtown into the park where the big
Speaker 1: City Christmas Tree was being strung with lights. It had
Speaker 1: come in on a long flatbed truck this morning. Since then,
Speaker 1: clusters of people bundled in coats had busied themselves around it.
Speaker 1: It had taken a while and some yelling and frantic
Speaker 1: arm waving from the people in charge, but now it
Speaker 1: stood straight and tall in the middle of the park,
Speaker 1: and in a few hours it would be lit for
Speaker 1: the first time this season. I stepped back from the
Speaker 1: window and looked around at my own snug space, which
Speaker 1: I had just finished decorating. Strings of colored fairy lights
Speaker 1: circled around the windows and stretched across the bricks and
Speaker 1: beams of my old apartment. My little tree, set up
Speaker 1: on a table by the window with just lights and
Speaker 1: some paper ornaments I'd cut myself, blinked merrily, and I
Speaker 1: knew my neighbor and her little girl, and the apartment
Speaker 1: across the street could see it from their window, and
Speaker 1: I liked that. I took the last sip from my
Speaker 1: cup of cinnamon coffee and set it in the sink.
Speaker 1: I was meeting some friends in the park for the
Speaker 1: tree lighting, but first had a bit of shopping to do,
Speaker 1: so I tied on my boots, wrapped my coat and
Speaker 1: scarf tight around me, found the mittens i'd somehow not
Speaker 1: lost yet, and headed out. I lived on the third
Speaker 1: floor of an old brick building right in the center
Speaker 1: of the city. There are only a few apartments in
Speaker 1: the building, all like mine, little rooms with tall ceilings
Speaker 1: and old wood floors. I took the stairs down to
Speaker 1: the street and stepped out into the afternoon air. It
Speaker 1: was cold, and I filled my lungs. I could smell
Speaker 1: the chilled, clean scent of snow in the air, and
Speaker 1: the fresh green pine scent of the tree that would
Speaker 1: be lit to night. On the street level of our building,
Speaker 1: we had a sweet little bookshop then I stopped into
Speaker 1: a least once a week. They were open late tonight,
Speaker 1: and I looked in through the shop front and watched
Speaker 1: a few people browsing and reading. They had a reading
Speaker 1: nook set right into the front window of the shop,
Speaker 1: with a broad wooden bench and curved canopy of walnut
Speaker 1: above it. A boy in his teens sat in it,
Speaker 1: engrossed in a book about a starship and a mission
Speaker 1: to Mars. I saw the owner of the shop behind
Speaker 1: the register, and we waved at each other, and I
Speaker 1: started to walk. The streets were busy, people shopping, look
Speaker 1: at the window displays, and bumping into friends on the corners.
Speaker 1: I had a favorite shop on the next street. They
Speaker 1: sold pretty, stationary, funny old cards and a strange collection
Speaker 1: of music, and nice smelling soaps and potted plants, and
Speaker 1: handed its scarves. I had a feeling that the owner
Speaker 1: just randomly bought anything he liked and put it out
Speaker 1: without any sort of a plan. Sometimes the best plan
Speaker 1: is no plan. I was looking for a card for
Speaker 1: a friend of mine who lived on the other side
Speaker 1: of the world. I didn't send many Christmas cards, but
Speaker 1: I wanted to send one to her. I liked thinking
Speaker 1: of her opening her letterbox and seeing my handwriting on
Speaker 1: the envelope and feeling like she was home. I thumbed
Speaker 1: through the cards and found one with a vintage illustration
Speaker 1: that reminded me of my little tree up in the window.
Speaker 1: I bought it and tucked it into my bag and
Speaker 1: stepped back out onto the streets. I stopped in a
Speaker 1: few more shops on my way to my friends. I
Speaker 1: bought a pair of earings to send to my sister,
Speaker 1: a book about identifying of birds for a friend, and
Speaker 1: on a whim, a jigsaw puzzle for the little girl.
Speaker 1: Across the street, I could hear music coming from the park.
Speaker 1: It was getting darker, and I made my way through
Speaker 1: the bustling crowds to the center of town. I spotted
Speaker 1: my friends clustered around the front door of a coffee
Speaker 1: shop across from the park, and I called out to them.
Speaker 1: This was a yearly tradition. Sometimes we got dinner, Sometimes
Speaker 1: we sat in the pub all night, but always we
Speaker 1: watched the tree lighting and shared some holiday cheer. We
Speaker 1: were a big group and took over some seats and
Speaker 1: benches around a heater on the edge of the park.
Speaker 1: Someone had thought ahead and brought a thermis of hot
Speaker 1: chocolate and some paper cups. We passed it around and
Speaker 1: sent a few of our number out to the street
Speaker 1: vendors for popcorn and those hot candied nuts they tie
Speaker 1: into paper cones. The square around us was filling with people,
Speaker 1: more friends, shopkeepers and people I passed on the street
Speaker 1: every day. More families with kids sitting on shoulders to
Speaker 1: get a good view of the tree. It was almost time.
Speaker 1: The band got a bit louder, and the crowd turned
Speaker 1: its attention as one. Someone with an old microphone was
Speaker 1: speaking on a fuzzy, far off speaker, telling us what
Speaker 1: we already knew. The holidays were here. In the dark nights,
Speaker 1: there was also light and coming together to share it
Speaker 1: was a good idea. The drum rolled, the kids clapped
Speaker 1: and stopped in a fever of anticipation. There was a
Speaker 1: moment of quiet all over the city, and then the
Speaker 1: lights came on. A tower of a tree stood lit
Speaker 1: in her glory in our park, and we all clapped
Speaker 1: and whistled our approval. Not long after we called it
Speaker 1: a night. We squeezed hands and hugged and pressed red
Speaker 1: cheek to red cheek and said happy holidays and be
Speaker 1: safe and sleep tight. The streets were looped with strings
Speaker 1: of lights, and I took my time walking back to
Speaker 1: my flat, looking in the shop windows and smelling the
Speaker 1: good smells of the venders and the cold night air
Speaker 1: along the way. I liked my life. I liked to
Speaker 1: be out in the bustle of the city, out with friends,
Speaker 1: busy and merry on a December night. But I also
Speaker 1: liked the quiet solitude of my little apartment, the stillness,
Speaker 1: the simple decorations I'd set up, the sound of the
Speaker 1: old radiators hissing with steam. The bookshop was closed up now,
Speaker 1: the streets were quieting, and just as I turned to
Speaker 1: go in, a few silent flakes floated down, and I
Speaker 1: caught them in the palm of my mittened hand. I
Speaker 1: smiled up at the street lights showing a pattern of
Speaker 1: fluffy flakes coming down. I couldn't wait to watch them
Speaker 1: from my favorite window upstairs. Curled into my chair with
Speaker 1: a blanket tucked in around me, I turned the key
Speaker 1: and tucked myself in for the night. Sweet dreams