Falling Asleep on a Cloud — A Deep Sleep Calming Meditation for Anxiety, Stress and Overthinking

The fourth episode in the Falling Asleep By series.

As the sun goes down and the sky turns soft pinks and purples, something extraordinary happens.

A cloud descends. Slowly, gently, warmly. It finds you exactly where you are, wraps itself around you, and lifts you — so softly you barely notice — into the evening sky.

You are weightless. Warm. Completely held. Floating in a sky the colour of the most beautiful sunset you have ever seen.

And when the last light fades, the cloud brings you home. Settling you back into your bed so gently, so completely, that sleep is already there waiting for you.

Please let me know if you enjoyed this session: sylvia@sylviaingle.com

And if today's meditation has stirred something in you, a curiosity, a longing, a quiet sense that you are ready for more, I would love to support you further.

Visit www.sylviaingle.co.uk to find out how we can work together.

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:01

Close your eyes and take one slow breath in and let it go. Take another deep breath in, fully deeply, and let it go. It's evening. The sun is going down somewhere beyond your window, beyond your walls. The sky is changing into most extraordinary colors, soft pink, warm orange, gentle lavender, and deeper where the sky begins to darken at the edges the most beautiful soft purple, and you are in your bed exactly where you are right now. Pillow beneath your head, covers tucked around you, everything so familiar, safe, almost quiet. The evening light soft finds its way into the room, touching the walls, the ceiling, everything with that warm, fading pink that only exists for a few minutes each day, and only if you are still enough to notice it like you are right now. You notice it as you lie in here, warm, tactile, quiet in the fading light. You become aware of something soft outside something's moving slowly, gently, descending. It's a cloud, warm and soft, pale rose pink, catching the last colours of the sunset as it moves, it's gliding towards you slowly. That's right, it reaches your window, pauses there for a moment as though asking your permission, and then so softly, so gently begins to come inside, filling the room with the softest, warmest mist you have ever felt, like the finest, lightest, warmest thing imaginable touching your skin, like being wrapped up in something that has no weight at all, and yet holds you completely. The cloud settles around you, around your shoulders, around your arms, your hands, your feet, beneath you, between you and your bed, lifting you so grudgingly and softly that you barely notice that that movement happens at all. You're being held completely, gently, warmly by something that asks nothing of you except to receive it. And now, very gently, you are being lifted the way air feather lifts on a warm current of earth without effort, without deciding to simply rising because the air beneath it's warm, and the world above is open. You are above your bed now, above your room, the clouds carrying you so tenderly and gently and carefully as though you are the most precious thing it has ever held on to the open evening sky, and what a sky, pink and coral and lavender, and the deepest, softest purple at the edges, the last light of the sun spreading across the horizon like something warm and generous and slow. The first stars are beginning to appear, silver in the darkening blue above, and you are floating in the middle of all of this, safe, completely supported by the cloud beneath you and around you, wrapped up. The air up here is soft and still, just the perfect warmth of a summer evening sky at the end of a long and gentle day. Below you the world is quiet, lights beginning to appear in windows, everything small and peaceful and far away and you here, above it all, held by your cloud, weightless, warm, completely, utterly in peace and calm. Breathe in the soft evening air and breathe out everything that belongs to the world below. They will all be there tomorrow. Tonight it's the very far away, tonight you're here in the sky in the womb, in the most extraordinary softness you have ever seen and experienced. Rest here for a while, simply floating, breathing, being held. The cloud moves very beneath you, very slowly, drifting on a warm evening air, going nowhere in particular. The sky around you deepens gradually, deepening into the most beautiful soft purple, and above the stars growing brighter one by one, appearing like something being slowly gently revealed just for you. You are warm and safe. Your body feels light and easy, supported from every side, wrapped up. Your breath is slow and deep and effortless. The way breathing always is when the body is completely at rest and the mind has finally gently let the day go. There is nothing to think about up here, nothing to plan, nothing to remember, nothing to prepare for, just the sky and the warmth and the cloud and the stars coming out one by one in the darkening blue above you, and your breath slow, slower. Stay here for a moment, simply here, simply held, and now very gradually and gently the cloud begins to move towards carrying you home, slowly descending through the soft evening sky, through the last colours of the sunset, down through the quiet air towards the lights below. You can feel it, the most gradual, gentler sense of coming back, being brought home by something that has held you perfectly, and now the same curse returning you home down through the soft night air through your ceiling back to your room, your room quiet and dark, and yours, the cloud settles you back into your bed so gently, fitting you back into your pillow, your covers, the exact shape of your unfamiliar bed, and as it settles you, as it tucks itself softly around you one last time, you realize that sleep is already here, it's been waiting for you. You are home, you are warm, you are asleep, warm and soft. The sleep's already here, falling asleep.