Speaker 1: Welcome to season thirteen of Bedtime Stories for Everyone, in
Speaker 1: which nothing much happens, you feel good, and then you
Speaker 1: fall asleep. I'm Catherine Nikolay, I read and write all
Speaker 1: the stories you hear, and nothing much happens. Audio Engineering
Speaker 1: is by Bob Wittersheim. Wow thirteen seasons, over two hundred episodes,
Speaker 1: one fantastic book, if I do say so myself, and
Speaker 1: now three weekly shows, all from a little idea I
Speaker 1: had in the middle of the night. Thank you for
Speaker 1: listening and for sharing what we do. It helps us
Speaker 1: grow and provide more comfort and enjoyment to Our newest
Speaker 1: show is called Stories from the Village of Nothing Much,
Speaker 1: and it's a daytime version of our Bedtime Stories. It
Speaker 1: joins first this our ten minute meditation show in giving
Speaker 1: you lots of ways morning tonight to feel good and
Speaker 1: feel connected to what is good in the world. They're
Speaker 1: all available for free wherever you listen, or you can
Speaker 1: subscribe for ad free and bonus early release episodes through
Speaker 1: the link in our show notes or by searching NMH
Speaker 1: Premium Plus on Apple Podcasts. Our charity this week is
Speaker 1: Guide Dogs for the Blind. Everyone deserves to move through
Speaker 1: the world safely and confidently, and they are helping find
Speaker 1: a link to them in our show notes. Now, I
Speaker 1: have a story to tell you. It's a soft place
Speaker 1: to rest your mind, and just by listening, you'll be
Speaker 1: training your brain to settle and to sleep. I'll tell
Speaker 1: the story twice, a little slower the second time through.
Speaker 1: If you wake again in the night, you can turn
Speaker 1: a story right back on. Or sometimes it's enough just
Speaker 1: to think through any part of it that you can remember.
Speaker 1: This sleep training will improve with time, so give yourself
Speaker 1: a few weeks of regular use to really get the
Speaker 1: hang of it. Now, get as comfortable as you can
Speaker 1: lights out, maybe a sleep mask or a Teddy Bear
Speaker 1: or just the right pillow in the right spot, and
Speaker 1: then let your whole body relax. Whatever today was like
Speaker 1: is what today was like. And now we're here and
Speaker 1: it's okay to let go. Take a slow, deep breath
Speaker 1: in through your nose and sigh from your mouth one
Speaker 1: more time. Breathe in out with sound good. Our story
Speaker 1: tonight is called the Sleeper Car, and it's a story
Speaker 1: about a trip where the mode of travel is more
Speaker 1: important than the destination. It's also about Chris Ironed Linens
Speaker 1: a little notebook that fits perfectly into your pocket. The
Speaker 1: mystery of strangers across the dining car and waking up
Speaker 1: to a snowy sunrise the sleeper car. From the window,
Speaker 1: a broad white landscape stretched out under the afternoon sun.
Speaker 1: We'd just cut through a small city, and I could
Speaker 1: still make out a few buildings in the distance. I
Speaker 1: loved passing through towns, watching cars waiting at the crossings,
Speaker 1: catching a glimpse of people walking on the city streets
Speaker 1: with bags slung over their arms, caught up in their
Speaker 1: own routines. Seeing people in this way a single frame
Speaker 1: of their life while my own blazed past. It reminded
Speaker 1: me that we were all our own main characters, and
Speaker 1: I found myself charmed by the faces I saw and
Speaker 1: the stories that might go with them. I was still
Speaker 1: thinking about the last town, the flash of their city
Speaker 1: square as we sped through, their trees still lit on
Speaker 1: the ice rink in front of it, swirling with skaters.
Speaker 1: As the sun began to sink lower and an orange
Speaker 1: glow fell on my face. We were a little more than
Speaker 1: a day into our journey, with a couple more to
Speaker 1: go before the last stop, and I was thoroughly enjoying
Speaker 1: train travel, I thought I might be bored, but bored
Speaker 1: was the last thing I was. I was relaxed, though,
Speaker 1: compared to driving, following directions, watching for traffic and road closures,
Speaker 1: this was positively meditative. The scenery was always changing, though
Speaker 1: the pace was steady, and I spent a good deal
Speaker 1: of time just looking out the window, either in the
Speaker 1: dining car or here in our compartment. We'd splurged a
Speaker 1: bit for this trip, and since the mode of travel
Speaker 1: meant more to us than our destination itself, it had
Speaker 1: proved worth it. We had a small state room with
Speaker 1: a wide bed, a neat little washroom, and a sofa
Speaker 1: where we'd sipped our coffee this morning. I'd never been
Speaker 1: in such a cozy, well thought out space as this
Speaker 1: little room. It was engineered for comfort and to fit
Speaker 1: well within the limited space, and also with a bit
Speaker 1: of nostalgia in mind. And for me this was nostalgia
Speaker 1: for something I'd never actually had or known. I'd seen
Speaker 1: elegant train travel in black and white movies and read
Speaker 1: about it in books, but never lived it. And now
Speaker 1: that I was here, I found it lived up to
Speaker 1: every expectation and then some. The linens on the bed
Speaker 1: were ironed and crisp. The pastries that had come with
Speaker 1: our coffee this morning were delicate and filled with the
Speaker 1: best apricot preserves ever tasted. There was a light scent
Speaker 1: in the carpeted halls that reminded me of a library,
Speaker 1: And when the train rushed through a tunnel and a
Speaker 1: light dimmed to a faint golden glow, I felt like
Speaker 1: I had fallen through the pages of a book. That
Speaker 1: I might slide open the door of our compartment and
Speaker 1: find a detective twisting his mustache and eyeing a mysterious
Speaker 1: heiress who was traveling under a false name. Maybe I
Speaker 1: thought I should write a novel. As we chugged through
Speaker 1: the countryside, my imagination was clearly running away with me.
Speaker 1: Might as well put it to good use. So as
Speaker 1: we got ready to head to the dining car, I
Speaker 1: took a little note book and pen from my luggage
Speaker 1: and tucked it into my pocket. The walk from the
Speaker 1: sleeper car down to the dining car passed through a
Speaker 1: few others. Generally they were just passenger coaches lined with seats,
Speaker 1: but one was a sort of lounge with sofas and
Speaker 1: cocktail tables. A chess game was being played by two
Speaker 1: older men, one with thick glasses and the other with
Speaker 1: a salt and pepper beard. I stopped in the passage
Speaker 1: between cars and pulled out my note book. What are
Speaker 1: you doing making notes? I'm writing a mystery novel. And
Speaker 1: those two I tilted my head toward the chess players
Speaker 1: behind us. They're both suspects. We chuckled as I put
Speaker 1: my note book away and passed through into the dining car.
Speaker 1: The sun was still an inch above the horizon, and
Speaker 1: the fields around us were layered with snow. Flakes were
Speaker 1: falling past the windows, and their motion plus our own,
Speaker 1: added up to a feeling of being in a snow globe.
Speaker 1: And I imagined us setting on a bookshelf in a
Speaker 1: library somewhere, freshly shaken. As the train circled and circled
Speaker 1: the same small bit of track, we were headed toward
Speaker 1: the mountains and would be climbing through the night. I
Speaker 1: hoped i'd wake tomorrow in time for what I guessed
Speaker 1: would be a pretty spectacular sunrise. The tables were laid
Speaker 1: with white tablecloths edge in dark green that matched the
Speaker 1: upholstery on the banquettes. We were led to a table
Speaker 1: at the far end of the car where we could
Speaker 1: see all of our fellow passengers, perfect for my research,
Speaker 1: and when we sat, I tucked my notebook under the
Speaker 1: edge of my plate for easy reach. We ordered fancy
Speaker 1: drinks that bubbled in old fashioned glasses. While we sipped,
Speaker 1: we made up stories about the other diners. There was
Speaker 1: a mother and daughter at a table across from us,
Speaker 1: and they seemed pensive as they spooned up their soup,
Speaker 1: quiet unassuming nothing to see there. I asked over my glass, Hum,
Speaker 1: that's what they want you to think, probably planning a
Speaker 1: heist of the jewels in the train safe? I wrote,
Speaker 1: heist jewels safe in my note book. The snow kept
Speaker 1: falling as we dined asparagus soup auruncini with a tangy sauce,
Speaker 1: roasted portobello and faroh, and a thin slice of very
Speaker 1: rich chocolate tart. At times we forgot to imagine storylines
Speaker 1: and just got lost, staring out at the mountains, a
Speaker 1: faint halo of moon behind the clouds on our hands
Speaker 1: lazily touching across the table. The rocking of the train
Speaker 1: was making me drowsy, and finally we rose and thanked
Speaker 1: our waiter and strolled back to the sleeper car. Our
Speaker 1: bed had been turned down and the scances dimmed. I
Speaker 1: stood by the window and watched the scenery race by,
Speaker 1: thinking about how sweet it would be to pull on
Speaker 1: my pajamas and climb up into the big soft bed,
Speaker 1: to turn out the lights and feel the sway of
Speaker 1: the train, to hear the bells tolling at the crossings.
Speaker 1: In my sleep, I set my note book beside the bed,
Speaker 1: thinking that I might dream up a whole new story
Speaker 1: over night and wake to find myself in a new world.
Speaker 1: The sleeper car. From the window, a broad white landscape
Speaker 1: stretched out under the afternoon sun. We'd just cut through
Speaker 1: a small city, and I could still make out a
Speaker 1: few tall buildings in the distance. I loved passing through towns,
Speaker 1: watching cars waiting at the crossings, catching a glimpse of
Speaker 1: people walking on the city streets with bags slung over
Speaker 1: their arms, caught up in their own routines. Seeing people
Speaker 1: in this way a single frame of their life while
Speaker 1: my own blazed past. It reminded me that we were
Speaker 1: all our own main characters, and I found myself charmed
Speaker 1: by the faces I saw and the stories that might
Speaker 1: go with them. I was still thinking about the last town,
Speaker 1: the flash of their city square as we sped through,
Speaker 1: their tree still lit, and the ice rink in front
Speaker 1: of it swirling with skaters. As the sun began to
Speaker 1: sink lower and an orange glow fell on my face.
Speaker 1: We were a little more than a day into our journey,
Speaker 1: with a couple more yet to go before the last stop,
Speaker 1: and I was thoroughly enjoying train travel. I'd thought I
Speaker 1: might be bored, but board was the last thing I was.
Speaker 1: I was relaxed, though, compared to driving, following directions, watching
Speaker 1: for traffic and road closures, this was positively meditative. The
Speaker 1: scenery was always changing, though the pace was steady, and
Speaker 1: I spent a good deal of time just looking out
Speaker 1: of the window, either in the dining car or here
Speaker 1: in our compartment. We'd splurged a bit for this trip,
Speaker 1: and since the mode of travel meant more to us
Speaker 1: than the destination itself, it had proved worth it. We
Speaker 1: had a small stateroom with a wide bed, a neat
Speaker 1: little washroom, and a sofa where we'd sipped our coffee
Speaker 1: this morning. I'd never been in such a cozy well
Speaker 1: thought out space as this little room. It was engineered
Speaker 1: for comfort and to fit well within the limited space,
Speaker 1: and also with a bit of nostalgia in mind. And
Speaker 1: for me, this was nostalgia for something I'd never actually
Speaker 1: had or known. I'd seen elegant train travel in black
Speaker 1: and white movies and read about it in books, but
Speaker 1: never lived it. And now that I was here, I
Speaker 1: found it lived up to every expectation and then some.
Speaker 1: The linens on the bed were ironed and crisp. The
Speaker 1: pastries that had come with our coffee this morning were
Speaker 1: delicate and filled with the best apricot preserves I'd ever tasted.
Speaker 1: There was a light scent in the carpeted halls that
Speaker 1: reminded me of a library. And when the train rushed
Speaker 1: through a tunnel and the light dimmed to a faint
Speaker 1: golden glow, I felt like I had fallen through the
Speaker 1: pages of a book. That I I might slide open
Speaker 1: the door of the compartment and find a detective twisting
Speaker 1: his mustache an eyeing a mysterious heiress who was traveling
Speaker 1: under a false name. Maybe I thought I should write
Speaker 1: a novel. As we chugged through the countryside, my imagination
Speaker 1: was clearly running away with me. Might as well put
Speaker 1: it to good use, So as we got ready to
Speaker 1: head to the dining car, I took a little note
Speaker 1: book and pen from my luggage and tucked it into
Speaker 1: my pocket. The walk from the sleeper car down to
Speaker 1: the dining car passed through a few others. Generally they
Speaker 1: were just passenger coaches lined with seats, but one was
Speaker 1: a sort of lounge with sofas and cocktail tables. A
Speaker 1: chess game was being played by two older men, one
Speaker 1: with thick glasses and the other with a salt and
Speaker 1: pepper beard. I stopped in the passage between cars and
Speaker 1: pulled out my notebook. What are you doing making no?
Speaker 1: I'm writing a mystery novel. And those two I tilted
Speaker 1: my head toward the chess players behind us. They're both suspects.
Speaker 1: We chuckled. As I put my notebook away and passed
Speaker 1: through into the dining car. The sun was still an
Speaker 1: inch above the horizon, and the fields around us were
Speaker 1: layered with snow. Flakes were falling past the windows, and
Speaker 1: their motion plus our own added up to a feeling
Speaker 1: of being inside a snow globe. I imagined us sitting
Speaker 1: on a bookshelf in a library somewhere, freshly shaken. As
Speaker 1: the train circled and circled the same small bit of track,
Speaker 1: we were headed toward the mountains and would be climbing
Speaker 1: through the night. I hoped i'd wake tomorrow in time
Speaker 1: for what I guessed would be a pretty spectacular sunrise.
Speaker 1: The tables were laid with white tablecloths edged in dark
Speaker 1: green that matched the upholstery on the banquettes. We were
Speaker 1: led to a table at the far end of the
Speaker 1: car where we could see all of our fellow passengers,
Speaker 1: perfect for my research, and when we sat, I tucked
Speaker 1: my notebook under the edge of my plate for easy reach.
Speaker 1: We ordered fancy drinks that bubbled in old fashioned glasses.
Speaker 1: While we sipped, we made up stories about the other diners.
Speaker 1: There was a mother and daughter at a table across
Speaker 1: from us, and they seemed pensive as they spooned up
Speaker 1: their soup, quiet unassuming nothing to see there, I asked
Speaker 1: over my glass, Hum, that's what they want you to think,
Speaker 1: probably planning a heist of the jewels in the train safe?
Speaker 1: I wrote, heist jewels safe in the notebook. The snow
Speaker 1: kept falling as we dined asparagus soup are unchini with
Speaker 1: a tangy sauce, roasted portobello and Pharaoh, and a thin
Speaker 1: slice a very rich chocolate tart. At times we forgot
Speaker 1: to imagine storylines and just got lost, staring out at
Speaker 1: the mountains, a faint halo of moon behind the clouds,
Speaker 1: and our hands lazily touching across the table. The rocking
Speaker 1: of the train was making me drowsy, and finally we
Speaker 1: rose and thanked our waiter and strolled back to the
Speaker 1: sleeper car. Our bed had been turned down and theisconces d.
Speaker 1: I stood by the window and watched the scenery race by,
Speaker 1: thinking about how sweet it would be to pull on
Speaker 1: my pajamas and climb up into the big soft bed,
Speaker 1: to turn out the lights and feel the sway of
Speaker 1: the train, to hear the bells tolling at the crossings
Speaker 1: in my sleep. I set my note book beside the bed,
Speaker 1: thinking that I might dream up a whole new story
Speaker 1: overnight and wake to find myself in a new world.
Speaker 1: Sweet dreams.