The Mystic Castle & The Ancient Library – Magic Sleep Story Text

It’s time for your sleep story. You are in a forest, a beautiful forest. It’s nighttime and the moonlight shines down upon the ancient trees. You sense that there is something magical about this place, something otherworldly. As you walk, allow everything to disappear, anything that is happening in your life. Let it go as you immerse yourself in this special place.

You stop at a tree, a huge tree. It looks like a Redwood or Sequoia. It is so wide you could walk around it and be tired by the time you finish your walk. There is something so humble about this tree, something so timeless. It has stood in this one spot for thousands of years. Imagine that. Imagine that it is saying it has known a very different world and now you have the privilege of standing. You touch it, feel how calming it is to just simply be in communion with nature.

Take some deep breaths now, in and out, in and out, in and out. Now, you continue your walk, looking up at the stars shining brightly down upon you. How astonishing, stunning they are. In your mind, you single out one star and allow yourself to make a wish. Whatever you like. Pick another star and thank that star for everything that you have in your life.

You keep walking through the forest, the soft earth beneath you calms you and adds to a sense of serenity and peace. Eventually, you turn a corner and in the distance, in a clearing in the forest, you see an enchanting, beautiful castle. Remember, you are completely safe. For you, this is a safe and welcoming place. You decide to explore the castle and you walk towards it.

It looks like an old French chateau, very ornate and detailed, and extremely beautiful. You see in the windows little candles burning which just add to the welcoming glow that the castle gives you. Once you arrive below the castle, you see that there is a staircase leading to the main door. You climb the stairs and each step that you take, you feel more and more relaxed, and an even greater sense of peace comes over you. Whatever this place is, perhaps it offers you a level of serenity that you have never experienced.

Approaching the top of the stairs now, each step still bringing you to deeper and deeper peace, finally, you arrive at a stunning wooden door. It’s huge, three times your height, and you notice a little sign on the door. It reads, “You have been blessed to find this place. All are welcome to find peace and grace. Feel free to enter and, if you want, have a read or find a bedroom and have a deep sleep.”

The sign on the door further adds to your feeling of security and ease as you push the great door open and enter this magical castle. All around the castle is lit by candlelight and one thing that amazes you is that on all of the walls of the castle, there are beautiful paintings of all of your favorite things. As you look around the castle at the different pictures, whatever you want to see on the paintings appears, whether it be some of your favorite people, favorite places to visit, or favorite activities to do. It’s like magic, and this place really is magic.

You walk along a splendid marble floor, and each step that you take makes you feel more and more relaxed. The smells here are amazing, and all of your favorite scents travel throughout the castle. It really feels like this castle is just for you. The finest fabrics, the most precious of materials adorn every room.

Eventually, you will arrive at another big doorway, and this door has a sign above it saying “The Library of Voices”. You’re not sure what that means, but you look forward to finding out. You push the great door open and walk into the most astonishing library you have ever seen. Hundreds and thousands of huge bookcases line the walls, and a beautiful glass domed roof sits above. You can see the stars through the glass, and it just adds to the magical feeling of you being here.

You walk through the library and see so many familiar books. The whole library is lit by candlelight as well, the soft glow grounding and comforting. You see a book that you would like to look into, “Pride and Prejudice”. You take it off the shelf and find a chair next to a warm open fire. You sit down in the unbelievably comfortable chair and open the book on a random page.

“Mr. Darcy’s letter to Lady Catherine was in a different style; and still different from either was what Mr. Bennet sent to Mr. Collins, in reply to his last. With conscious superiority, of manner he had courted her for so long! But, however this remembrance might lessen the evil, Elizabeth was fond of Jane and Jane of her, and she would not listen to the hint, and had always been both far more and far less than herself since he had seen her next to Jane in birth and beauty, that she felt it impossible to wait patiently for any proof of it.”

You close the book. You’re not sure what just happened, but what seems to have happened is when you opened the book, the book started talking to you and telling you the story within. You open the book again on the same page.

“I must trouble you once more for congratulations. Elizabeth will soon be the wife of Mr. Darcy. Console Lady Catherine as well as you can. But, if I were you, I would stand by the nephew. He has more to give.

“Yours sincerely, etc.”

“Miss Bingley’s congratulations to her brother, on his approaching marriage, were all that was affectionate and insincere. She wrote even to Jane on the occasion, to express her delight, and repeat all her former professions of regard. Jane was not deceived, but she was affected, and though feeling no reliance on her, could not help writing her a much kinder answer than she knew was deserved. The joy which Miss Darcy expressed on receiving similar information, was as sincere as her brother’s in sending it. Four sides of paper were insufficient to contain all her delight, and all her earnest desire of being loved by her sister.”

You close the book again. Yes, it was true, the book really did speak to you. Perhaps you are amazed by this and would like to see if it is true for another book. You peruse the great bookshelves and eventually find the complete works of William Shakespeare just as you sit back down.

It begins to rain and the rain falls on the great glass roof above you. How comforting it is. You open Shakespeare on a particular page. “But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.” Arrives first son and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief that thou, made far more fair than she. Be not her maid since she is envious. Vestal livery is but sick and green, and none but fools to wear it. Cast it off! “It is my lady, it is my love.” She knew she were. She speaks, yet she says nothing. What of that? Her eye discourses. I will answer it. “I am too bold. ‘Tis not to me she speaks. She speaks to you. Of the fairest stars in all the heaven, having some business, do entreat her eyes to twinkle in their spheres till they return. What if her eyes were there, they are in her head? The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars as daylight does the lamp. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief.” You close the book and realize that you have just heard one of the great speeches by Shakespeare. Romeo sits looking at Juliet on her balcony in Verona. You are now perhaps enjoying being read to by the books, and so you go and find another. This time you find “The Picture of Dorian Gray” by Oscar Wilde. You sit back down in your sumptuous chair and open the book near the beginning.

“The studio was filled with the rich odor of roses, and when the late summer winds stirred amid the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn. From the corner of the divan of Persian saddlebags on which he was lying smoking, as was his custom, innumerable cigarettes, Lord Henry Wotton could just catch the gleam of the honey-sweet and honey-colored blossoms of a laburnum, whose tremulous branches seemed hardly able to bear the burden of a beauty so flamelike as theirs; and now and then the fantastic shadows of birds in flight flitted across the long tussore-silk curtains that were stretched in front of the huge window, producing a kind of momentary Japanese effect, and making him think of those pallid, jade-faced painters of Tokyo who, through the medium of an art that is necessarily immobile, seek to convey the sense of swiftness and motion. The sullen murmur of the bees shouldering their way through the long unmown grass, or circling with monotonous insistence round the dusty gilt horns of the straggling woodbine, seemed to make the stillness more oppressive. The dim roar of London was like the bourdon note of a distant organ. In the centre of the room, clamped to an upright easel, stood the full-length portrait of a young man of extraordinary personal beauty, and in front of it, some little distance away, was sitting the artist himself, Basil Hallward.”

You close the book and allow all of this to settle in this amazing place that you find yourself in. You put back the picture of Dorian Gray and you find one last book, Meditations by Marcus Aurelius. You are feeling tired now, though, and so you decide to find the bedroom. You walk through the castle, leaving the library behind, and eventually you come across a small little door, almost so small that you have to crawl through it.

Once inside, you look around the room you find yourself in. It’s the most majestic bedroom you have ever seen. A huge four-poster bed sits in the middle of the room, and a great fire burns to keep the room warm and cozy. The light is low, and once again your favorite calming smells pervade the air. You climb the little stairs that lead to the bed.

Down under the covers in this unbelievably comfortable bed, you still have your book with you, Meditations. And you decide to read to help you fall asleep. You open the book: “A man must not only consider daily is life wasted and decreases, but there’s also that if he live long, he cannot be certain whether his understanding shall continue. So, a ball and sufficient for riser discrete consideration in matter of businesses, or for contemplation, it being this thing where on true knowledge of thing most divine and human both depend. For if once he shall begin to doubt, his respiration, nutrition, imaginative and operative, and other natural faculties may still continue with the same usual find no want to have them. But how to make that right use of himself, t-shirt out to observe exactly in all things that which is right and just, how to re-dress and rectify all wrong or sudden apprehension and imaginations, and even this particular, whether he should live any longer or no, to consider Julie for row such things where in the best strength and vigor of the mind represent his power and ability will be passed and gone.”

You fall deeper towards sleep, and as you do, the book closes. And now you sleep in this safe, comforting, warm, and cozy place.