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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Rain drums on Adventure Wolf and I ramble happily, Sleepy, about clacky buttons in a galaxy far, far away, why moose trigger automatic doors, a speed-camera that fines ducks (in spirit), and the strange economy of “free.”

We drift from speech therapists to Tudor headaches, from winter darkness to the quiet relief of naming anxiety “blocking.” And then the water, ancient, shared, ours, passes through the story like it always does.

You don’t have to listen; just let the words roll by and drift off to sleep on their soft, ridiculous edges. A small, introspective journey to sleep for a peaceful night. Sleep Tight!

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

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Hi, Sleepy. Tonight we try a small and slightly ridiculous experiment: you say “hi” back, and somehow I hear you anyway. We wander through painted reality, peel a corner, and glimpse the backstage where nothing is dangerous, at least for a few micro-seconds at a time.

A houseplant becomes pain (harmless in its pot), a dragon suit becomes a memory of feeling invisible, and a lion in the bushes politely asks about your spiritual life.

It is what it is. You can listen or not listen; you can drift off to sleep or just rest in the gentle emptiness where an egg-and-raisin sandwich is, briefly, the most important thing in the universe. Imaginative, introspective, a soft journey to sleep with a wink. Sleepy, let’s pretend together, and let go.

Sleep Tight!

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

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Hi, Sleepy. Tonight we tumble straight into the soft chaos: gratitude letters from everywhere, the strange art of being personal-not-private, and why “content creator” sounds like a label on an empty jar.

We circle around presidents paying for burgers, detour by Elvis (don’t worry), and then land in a sweaty body-pump class where a 50-year-old Swede forgets how heavy ten kilos get after forty reps.

A robot vacuum develops ritualistic tendencies, a pizza becomes a childhood comet, and language itself turns into a sleepy predator stalking the right word.

Nothing is planned, everything is allowed—just enough sparkle to keep you half-interested while you drift off to sleep on this imaginative, gently absurd journey to a peaceful night. It is what it is. Let’s begin.

Sleep Tight!

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

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Hi, Sleepy. Tonight I begin with a black t-shirt and a forest that insists it’s a ballroom. We wade into the dark pond of starting—awkward at first, then quietly inevitable. I whisper little unimportant truths (the best kind), invent hidden worlds on top of air-ducts, and point out a troll behind a birch just to keep the ordinary honest.

We talk about fear—cellar-door fear—and the moment you slam it and lie down anyway. We compare the “mess” of a teenage room with the sacred clutter of the forest floor, and meet a bird who builds perfect nests only to undo them, the way art sometimes does.

Somewhere in there I admit I’m scared of being unloved and still decide to swim. It is what it is. What happens, happens. And right now there’s nothing we need to do—except drift off to sleep on this small, imaginative journey to sleep and a peaceful night. Sleep Tight!

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

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A sun-splashed motorway, The Killers on repeat, one hand on the wheel and one small tear of relief—then we tumble, softly, into an alternate city where poems buy blankets and conversation pays for lunch.

Your guide hums by your ear, pigeons approve this silence, and a blue gate dissolves into fog while we practice the art of lane-changing without panic.

Nothing to fix, only to notice. Let go, drift off to sleep, and let this imaginative, introspective ramble carry you toward a peaceful night, Sleepy. It is what it is. What happens, happens. And right now, there’s nothing we can do but begin.

Sleep Tight!

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

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