Welcome to Bedtime Stories for Everyone, in which nothing much happens.
You feel good, and then you fall asleep.
I'm Katherine Nikolai.
I write and read all the stories you hear on Nothing Much Happens.
Audio engineering is by Bob Wittersheim.
We are bringing you an encore episode tonight, meaning that this story originally aired at some point in the past.
It could have been recorded with different equipment in a different location.
And since I'm a person, and not a computer, I sometimes sound just slightly different.
But the stories are always soothing and family -friendly.
And our wishes for you are always deep rest and sweet dreams.
Now, I have a story to tell you.
It's a soft place to rest your mind.
And just by listening, you'll be training your brain to settle and to sleep.
I'll tell the story twice a little slower the second time through if you wake again in the night you can turn a story right back on or sometimes it's enough just to think through any part of it that you can remember this sleep training will improve with time so give yourself a few weeks of regular use
to really get the hang of it.
Our story tonight is called The Sleeper Car, and it's a story about a trip where the mode of travel is more important than the destination.
It's also about crisp ironed linens, a little notebook that fits perfectly into your pocket, the mystery of strangers that cross the dining car and waking up to a snowy sunrise.
If you're listening, you know self -care is vital for overall wellness, but it can be hard to prioritize yourself and ask for what you need.
If you're a veteran going through a tough time, there are people who want to listen and help with no pressure or judgment.
Dial 988, then press 1.
Chat at veteranscrisisline .net or text 838255 to reach the Veterans Crisis Line.
Responders are ready to support you, no matter what you're going through.
Now, get as comfortable as you can.
lights out maybe a sleep mask or a teddy bear or just the right pillow in the right spot and then let your whole body relax whatever today was like is what today was like and now we're here and it's okay to let go take a slow deep breath in through your nose and sigh from your mouth one more time, breathe in out
with sound good the sleeper car from the window a broad white landscape stretched out under the afternoon sun.
We'd just cut through a small city and I could still make out a few buildings in the distance.
I loved passing through towns watching cars waiting at the crossings catching a glimpse of people walking on the city streets with bags slung over their arms caught up in their own routines seeing people in this way a single frame of their life while my own blazed past it reminded me that we were all
our own main characters and I found myself charmed by the faces I saw and the stories that might go with them I was still thinking about the last town the flash of their city square as we sped through their tree still lit and the ice rink in front of it swirling with skaters as the sun began to sink
lower and an orange glow fell on my face we were a little more than a day into our journey with a couple more to go before the last stop and I was thoroughly enjoying train travel.
I thought I might be bored but bored was the last thing I was.
I was relaxed though compared to driving following directions watching for traffic and road closures this was positively meditative the scenery was always changing though the pace was steady and I spent a good deal of time just looking out the window either in the dining car or here in our compartment
we'd splurged a bit for this trip and since the mode of travel meant more to us than our destination itself it had proved worth it we had a small stateroom with a wide bed a neat little washroom and a sofa where we'd sipped our coffee this morning.
I'd never been in such a cozy, well -thought -out space as this little room.
It was engineered for comfort and to fit well within the limited space and also with a bit of nostalgia in mind.
And for me, this was nostalgia for something I'd never actually had or known.
I'd seen elegant train travel in black and white movies and read about it in books, but never lived it.
And now that I was here, I found it lived up to every expectation and then some.
The linens on the bed were ironed and crisp.
The pastries that had come with our coffee this morning were delicate and filled with the best apricot preserves I'd ever tasted.
There was a light scent in the carpeted halls that reminded me of a library.
And when the train rushed through a tunnel and the lights dimmed to a faint golden glow, I felt like I had fallen through the pages of a book that I might slide open the door of our compartment and find a detective twisting his mustache and eyeing a mysterious heiress who was traveling under a false
name. Maybe, I thought, I should write a novel as we chugged through the countryside.
My imagination was clearly running away with me.
Might as well put it to good use.
so as we got ready to head to the dining car I took a little notebook and pen from my luggage and tucked it into my pocket the walk from the sleeper car down to the dining car passed through a few others generally they were just passenger coaches lined with seats but one was a sort of lounge with sofas
and cocktail tables a chess game was being played by two older men one with thick glasses and the other with a salt and pepper beard.
I stopped in the passage between cars and pulled out my notebook.
What are you doing?
Making notes. I'm writing a mystery novel.
And those two? I tilted my head toward the chess players behind us.
They're both suspects.
We chuckled as I put my notebook away and passed through into the dining car.
The sun was still an inch above the horizon and the fields around us were layered with snow.
flakes were falling past the windows and their motion plus our own added up to a feeling of being in a snow globe and I imagined us sitting on a bookshelf in a library somewhere freshly shaken as the train circled and circled, the same small bit of track.
We were headed toward the mountains and would be climbing through the night.
I hoped I'd wake tomorrow in time for what I guessed would be a pretty spectacular sunrise.
the tables were laid with white tablecloths edged in dark green that matched the upholstery on the banquets.
We were led to a table at the far end of the car where we could see all of our fellow passengers perfect for my research and when we sat I tucked my notebook under the edge of my plate for easy reach we ordered fancy drinks that bubbled in old fashioned glasses while we sipped we made up stories about the other
diners. There was a mother and daughter at a table across from us and they seemed pensive as they spooned up their soup.
Quiet, unassuming. Nothing to see there?
I asked over my glass.
Hmm, that's what they want you to think, probably planning a heist of the jewels in the train safe.
I wrote heist, jewels, safe, in my notebook.
The snow kept falling as we dined.
Asparagus soup, arancini with a tangy sauce.
Roasted portobello and farro, and a thin slice of very rich chocolate tart.
At times we forgot to imagine storylines and just got lost staring out at the mountains.
a faint halo of moon behind the clouds and our hands lazily touching across the table the rocking of the train was making me drowsy and finally we rose and thanked our waiter and strolled back to the sleeper car our bed had been turned down and the sconces dimmed I stood by the window and watched the scenery
race by thinking about how sweet it would be to pull on my pajamas and climb up into the big soft bed to turn out the lights and feel the sway of the train to hear the bells tolling at the crossings in my sleep I set my notebook beside the bed thinking that I might dream up a whole new story overnight
and wake to find myself in a new world.
The Sleeper Car From the window, a broad, white landscape stretched out under the afternoon sun.
we'd just cut through a small city and I could still make out a few tall buildings in the distance I loved passing through towns watching cars waiting at the crossings catching a glimpse of people walking on the city streets with bags slung over their arms caught up in their own routines seeing people
in this way a single frame of their life while my own blazed past it reminded me that we were all our own main characters and I found myself charmed by the faces I saw and the stories that might go with them I was still thinking about the last town the flash of their city square as we sped through their
tree still lit and the ice rink in front of it swirling with skaters as the sun began to sink lower and an orange glow fell on my face.
We were a little more than a day into our journey with a couple more yet to go before the last stop and I was thoroughly enjoying...
Train travel. I'd thought I might be bored.
But bored was the last thing I was.
I was relaxed, though.
Compared to driving, following directions, watching for traffic, and road closures.
this was positively meditative the scenery was always changing though the pace was steady and I spent a good deal of time just looking out of the window either in the dining car or here in our compartment.
We'd splurged a bit for this trip and since the mode of travel meant more to us than the destination itself it had proved worth it.
We had a small stateroom with a wide bed, a neat little washroom, and a sofa where we'd sipped our coffee this morning.
I'd never been in such a cozy, well -thought -out space as this little room.
It was engineered for comfort, and to fit well within the limited space and also with a bit of nostalgia in mind.
And for me, this was nostalgia for something I'd never actually had or known.
I'd seen elegant train travel in black and white movies and read about it in books but never lived it and now that I was here I found it lived up to every expectation and then some the linens on the bed were ironed and crisp.
The pastries that had come with our coffee this morning were delicate and filled with the best apricot preserves I'd ever tasted.
There was a light scent in the carpeted halls that reminded me of a library and when the train rushed through a tunnel and the light dimmed to a faint golden glow I felt like I had fallen through the pages of a book that I might slide open the door of the compartment and find a detective twisting his mustache
and eyeing a mysterious heiress who is traveling under a false name.
maybe I thought I should write a novel as we chugged through the countryside my imagination was clearly running away with me might as well put it to good use so as we got ready to head to the dining car I took a little notebook and pen from my luggage and tucked it into my pocket the walk from the sleeper
car down to the dining car passed through a few others generally they were just passenger coaches lined with seats but one was a sort of lounge with sofas and cocktail tables a chess game was being played by two older men one with thick glasses and the other with a salt and pepper beard.
I stopped in the passage between cars and pulled out my notebook.
What are you doing?
Making notes. I'm writing a mystery novel and those two, I tilted my head toward the chess players behind us.
They're both suspects.
We chuckled as I put my notebook away and passed through into the dining car.
The sun was still an inch above the horizon and the fields around us were layered with snow.
Flakes were falling past the windows, and their motion plus our own added up to a feeling of being inside a snow globe.
I imagined us sitting on a bookshelf in a library somewhere freshly shaken as the train circled and circled the same small bit of track we were headed toward the mountains and would be climbing through the night.
I hoped I'd wake tomorrow in time for what I guessed would be a pretty spectacular sunrise.
The tables were laid with white tablecloths edged in dark green.
that matched the upholstery on the banquettes.
We were led to a table at the far end of the car, where we could see all of our fellow passengers, perfect for my research.
and when we sat I tucked my notebook under the edge of my plate for easy reach we ordered fancy drinks that bubbled in old -fashioned glasses while we sipped we made up stories about the other diners There was a mother and daughter at a table across from us, and they seemed pensive as they spooned up
their soup. Quiet, unassuming, nothing to see there, I asked over my glass.
that's what they want you to think probably planning a heist of the jewels in the train safe I wrote heist jewels safe in the notebook the snow kept falling as we dined asparagus soup arancini with a tangy sauce roasted portobello and farro and a thin slice of very rich chocolate tart at times we forgot
to imagine storylines and just got lost, staring out at the mountains, a faint halo of moon behind the clouds and our hands lazily touching across the table.
The rocking of the train was making me drowsy.
and finally we rose and thanked our waiter and strolled back to the sleeper car our bed had been turned down and the sconces dimmed I stood by the window and watched the scenery race by thinking about how sweet it would be to pull on my pajamas and climb up into the big soft bed to turn out the lights and feel the sway of the train to hear the bells tolling
at the crossings in my sleep.
I set my notebook beside the bed thinking that I might dream up a whole new story overnight and wake to find myself in a new world.
Sweet dreams.
