Fall asleep with Henrik

Christmas is around the corner of time, Sleepy, and we are standing in the doorway not really knowing if we want to go in or not. In this episode we drift off together through gingerbread pigs that shatter on hallway floors, storm nights on snow covered fields, plastic Jeeps with detachable men, and the strange ache of all the last times we never knew were last times.It is a quiet, slightly crooked journey to sleep through family, faith, absent granddads, toy guns, Barbie dolls and that peculiar mix of warmth and suffocation that holidays can bring. If you love Christmas, if you hate it, or if you just feel weird about it, you are invited. You do not have to follow every word. You can just let my voice mumble in the background while you fall asleep and slip into your own memories.Sleep Tight!More about Henrik, click here: https://linktr.ee/Henrikstahl Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Hi Sleepy. Tonight we drift between a rainy city and old memories of Gothenburg. A frozen Jack staring from the Atlantic, a young acting student walking through a park everyone says is dangerous, a mad man on a tram who never quite becomes as dangerous as he sounds.Somewhere in there is a naked man in the shower screaming “hooray” at a fallen razor, a lifetime of being scared of his own mind, and the strange relief of finally being able to cry again. We visit dream trains that never leave on time, labyrinth hotels, airports that feel like another planet, and the small comfort of a steady ventilation noise when you are trying to fall asleep.You do not have to keep track of any of it. You do not even have to listen. Let me be the background fan while your own stories fade into the dark and you slowly sink into your peaceful night, without having to keep eye contact with anything at all. Sleepy, it is what it is. What happens, happens. And right now, there is nothing we can do.Sleep Tight!More about Henrik, click here: https://linktr.ee/Henrikstahl Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

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 Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

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 Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

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 Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

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 Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

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 Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

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 Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

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 Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

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 Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Hi, Sleepy. Tonight I record with a camera staring back and a desk lamp pretending to be the sun. We wander from “ugly days” and nameless feelings to a pocket-list of fears (being unloved, losing the thread) and a shy wish for an embrace that actually lands. Stockholm drifts by in autumn colors; Antarctica glitters at the horizon; the anger engine sputters and we swap it for aim. It’s an introspective, slightly absurd ramble designed to help you drift off to sleep—soft edges, loose threads, and an imaginative lull between breaths. It is what it is. What happens, happens. And right now, there’s nothing we can do except fall asleep together. Sleep Tight!More about Henrik, click here: https://linktr.ee/Henrikstahl Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Hi, Sleepy. Tonight we practice the tender art of doing nothing without giving up. We float between two kinds of inaction — the gentle pause that lets you drift off to sleep, and the frozen moment where choice feels like a tiny, sharp point. From there we wander: gratitude letters from Sydney to Naples, the strange party where everyone talks about you and you try not to wave, and a ghost-story from drama school about a fearsome mime-teacher who once broke me and later cried at my opera. Hierarchies, lion-lounges, whispered corridors, and the ridiculous pride of saying “I saw Bergman live” while brushing the dust off my inner raisin. It is what it is — and right now there’s nothing we can do but breathe, listen, and let confusion soften at the edges. Let my voice be your messy mind for a while: introspective, imaginative, and gently absurd — a small, shambling journey to sleep. Sleep Tight!More about Henrik, click here: https://linktr.ee/Henrikstahl Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Hi, Sleepy. Tonight I’m the hat that won’t come off and the sigh that finally settles. We wander from my daughter’s Friday-breath of relief to a prairie of 900 million cows, a horse named Barbara who can sing the herd into neat little lines, and the dizzy kindness of work—the kind that bends backs and hearts and still asks for more. We listen for sand that sings, tip our hat to saints with thorny ideas, and let the town called Rest appear just when the dust tastes like old starlight between our teeth. It’s an improvisational, introspective little journey to sleep where nothing has to be solved and everything gets to breathe. Let my voice do the walking while you drift off to sleep, unbuttoning the day one quiet image at a time. It is what it is. What happens, happens. And right now, there’s nothing we need to do except close our eyes and ride. Sleep Tight!More about Henrik, click here: https://linktr.ee/Henrikstahl Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Hi, Sleepy. Tonight we dig where we stand—heels in the soil, head in the constellations. From a quantum shiver under our feet to a secret cave in the mind, we wander through dream-workshops where ponies deflate with comic dignity and a shaggy little creature eats a balloon behind a popcorn stall. We wonder if dreams are solitary janitors or communal rivers, if cores are gilded or just waves, and whether our inner rubber band needs a little soul-oil. It is what it is. What happens, happens. Breathe, drift off to sleep, and let the cave open like a quiet door. Sleepy, I can’t hear you—but I can feel you. Sleep Tight!More about Henrik, click here: https://linktr.ee/Henrikstahl Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Hi, Sleepy. Tonight we drift through memory like a midnight train—rattling carriages of rain on the Adventure Wolf roof, a not-quite-Luke hero tugging us forward, and a cottage where blue cheese grew in the breadbox like a tiny forest. We visit old windows with yellow curtains, recite war verses that don’t quite fit a five-year-old, and meet the faces that made us—grandmothers, grandfathers, and the mystery of a dad who tells perfect anecdotes with the feelings left just offstage. It’s an intimate, fog-soft journey to sleep, where the past keeps showing up as rooms in the mind and you get to simply lie back and let it all carry you. Not boring, not exciting—just human, just enough, so you can fall asleep and drift off to a peaceful night. Sleep Tight!More about Henrik, click here: https://linktr.ee/Henrikstahl Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Hi Sleepy. This one drifts like an unnecessary car ride into town that turns into coffee left unfinished. From there we tumble back to 2006—binders full of tour dates, whispered phone calls with elk hunters named Kurt (or was it Koot?), and four people in a forest of 500 empty chairs, half of them heckling. Out comes Mr. Green Branch in his too-tight green suit, a grumpy caterpillar refusing change, while I wonder why I always end up in tights. Phones appear, disappear, reappear. Memory slips, blue light glows, meditation becomes a crutch, and suddenly sleep itself is just another improvisation. It is what it is. What happens, happens. And right now, nothing is required of you. Just drift.Sleep Tight!More about Henrik, click here: https://linktr.ee/Henrikstahl Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Hi, Sleepy. Tonight I drift through mirrors—my own face in the TV screen, the cold studio air, the autumn leaves scratching outside, and the eyes of my parents, now fragile and still somehow ocean-sized. I talk about self-doubt, about calling myself ugly and then swearing, in a forest, to never do it again. I tell you about driving my parents through the towns where they once fell in love, about being both their son and their caretaker, about rage and tenderness and the unbearable sweetness of still having them here.It’s messy, contradictory, sometimes absurd—but that’s what family is. That’s what life is. And maybe, Sleepy, you’ll hear yourself in it too as you drift off to sleep into the great, strange night.Sleep Tight!More about Henrik, click here: https://linktr.ee/Henrikstahl Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Hello, Sleepy. Tonight we wander into snow and silence, into a lonely cabin where a map maker hides from the world, and a girl named Maya knocks on his door. You’ll hear boots crunching through icy forests, the stillness of a man who hasn’t spoken in decades, and the flicker of impossible maps — rivers flowing into clouds, forests made of glass, and secret tunnels that stretch under Europe.It’s a story, but not quite. A dream, but not quite. A drifting between silence and symbols, where each turn of the page could lead to wonder or ruin. You don’t need to keep up. Let your mind slip, let the maps redraw themselves in your sleep.It is what it is. What happens, happens. And right now, there’s nothing we can do about it. Let’s begin.Sleep Tight!More about Henrik, click here: https://linktr.ee/Henrikstahl Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Hi, Sleepy. Tonight, I stumble into a story about watery vegetable soup, forbidden teenage love, and a dog named M who pinned me to a leather sofa with his smelly breath and fifty kilos of stubbornness. From there, we drift to wrinkled birthday balloons, the sad fate of helium, barbershop choirs full of old drunk men, gooey macaroni comfort food, and the odd arrogance of singing “My Wild Irish Rose” with too much confidence. Somehow, it all turns into a meditation on love, gas, sadness, laughter, and whether one should ever preemptively murder a balloon.It is what it is. What happens, happens. And right now, there’s nothing we can do. Let’s begin.Sleep Tight!More about Henrik, click here: https://linktr.ee/Henrikstahl Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Hi Sleepy. Imagine a quilt made out of clouds, moth wings, and half-forgotten conversations. This is that quilt. Only instead of keeping you warm, it might keep you... asleep. Or not. It is what it is. What happens, happens.In this hours-long, slow-moving meteor of sound, I’ve stitched together five journeys through the strange and familiar landscapes of my own head. We begin with a denial (“This is not a sleeppodcast”), tumble into a curious caretaker dynamic (“I feel like I’m taking care of Henrik”), explore the bare bones of human aloneness (“The anatomy of loneliness”), take a left turn into the rear-end of knowledge (“Arses and information”), and finally sink into a quiet tête-à-tête where time forgets to tick (“Tranquil tête-à-tête”).The result? An unhurried, wandering, oddly comforting stretch of sound where ideas dissolve like sugar in tea, and you, Sleepy, can drift, sway, hover… and eventually slide into a peaceful night.Sleep Tight!More about Henrik, click here: https://linktr.ee/Henrikstahl Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.