Sleepy, tonight we walk that strange hallway that is not really there yet. I talk about not knowing, about the rooms we were never in, about my parents in a corridor that my mind keeps borrowing from my old school, and about how much of life is just guessing and filling in the gaps.

There is destiny and no destiny, being 50 and in free fall, the old bullying scars and the golden moment when someone once wrote “I love Henrik” on a cafeteria wall.

Somewhere in all of that, there is you in your own unseen room, and me in mine, trying to accept that we cannot control what happens, only what moves through us, while chaotic cow brains quietly listen to barbershop. Let this ramble be your little suitcase with the note that says “You are not under attack right now,” and let it keep you company as you drift off to sleep and into your own peaceful night.

Sleep Tight!

More about Henrik, click here: https://linktr.ee/Henrikstahl

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You fall into this one right in the middle of a life passage, Sleepy.

We start in the big white room with no walls, where there is no blueprint for how to live, only this strange job of talking into a microphone so that other humans can fall asleep.

From there it drifts into roosters who only want to fight, 80s school computers asking if you want to “get to harmony,” and a whole swarm of siblings on a tiny Swedish farm that felt like everything and too much at the same time.

There is talk of conditional love, of wanting to be seen without earning it, of the last time you carry your child without knowing it is the last time.

If your mind is messy tonight, let it sit with mine for a while. This is an introspective, slightly crooked journey to sleep where you do not have to be sensible, impressive or “enough.” You just get to be Sleepy. I will take the late shift with your thoughts so you can drift off to sleep and have a more peaceful night.

Sleep Tight!

More about Henrik, click here: https://linktr.ee/Henrikstahl

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Rain on the roof of Adventure Wolf, and inside: me, you, and a slow blue longing that refuses to have a name. We follow it anyway, through foggy moorland, over a childhood beach, into the black water and out among pine roots and beautiful decay.

I mumble Latin, mispronounce clouds, nearly fall asleep mid-sentence, and confess my synthwave tears. Also: one brief detour into the ancient comedy of farts (for science). If you drift off to sleep along the way, good. If you don’t, also good. This is an imaginative, introspective journey to sleep where nothing needs to add up. It is what it is. What happens, happens. Let’s begin, Sleepy.

Sleep Tight!

More about Henrik, click here: https://linktr.ee/Henrikstahl

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