
Fall asleep with Henrik
Swedish storyteller Henrik Ståhl hosts this sleep-focused podcast, offering calming conversations, imaginative stories, and gentle humor to help listeners unwind and fall asleep. Each episode features Henrik's soothing voice guiding introspective reflections and relaxing narratives, providing an alternative to traditional meditation apps. The show is ideal for insomniacs, overthinkers, or anyone seeking a peaceful end to the day. New episodes are released weekly.
Avsnitt

Tranquil Tête-à-Tête
Hi Sleepy.This time I wander through childhood memories, my old teenage barbershop quartet, an old friend, and some thoughts about how strange it is to simply be alive.My English stumbles here and there, my thoughts wander off, and I occasionally forget what I was talking about. As usual.You don’t have to follow any of it. Just let me talk somewhere in the background and see where we end up.Sleep

My Summer
First day back after the summer. I sit down and I start with gravel.Not the interesting kind. There isn't an interesting kind. But where I grew up almost nothing was paved, and when you came off a bike on that surface it took a wide decorative area out of you and filled it with small stones. And those stones lived in your knee until September.So this one is mostly that. Two memories from a very sm

Me being me
It is summer, with all that comes with it, so this is a rerun. A fallback to a more innocent time, when I was still quite new at this whole speaking-English-into-a-microphone thing.This is me letting my mind wander. No script, no soothing affirmations, just my imperfect English and whatever thoughts show up. That was sort of the point then, and it still is.I talk about the spaceship I invented as

The Temple of Not Knowing
Hi, Sleepy.Tonight I try to stand on the floor of not knowing. Not as a clever sentence, not as a podcast slogan, but as an actual place to put your feet in the morning. From uncertain times and foggy future towns to acting, meditation, smartphones, forecasts, sobriety, fathers, daughters, white beards I cannot grow, and the strange certainty that if you are hearing this, I somehow made it all the

Bluish Mountains
Hi Sleepy. Tonight the talking puts on its shoes and wanders off again. A cold Stockholm morning becomes bluish mountains in Dalarna, which becomes old theater rooms, old fear, old drunk directors, and then somehow a warm little container called Adventure Wolf, where no one has to prove anything to anyone.I talk about getting older and still not becoming a wise, stable mountain person. About fame,

My Hiding Place
Hi, Sleepy.Tonight we walk back to the old hiding place. The imaginary cabin in the deep Scandinavian forest, where the asphalt gives up, the gravel road gives up, and eventually even the noisy little generator of being a person seems to give up too.There is moss, an old stone that should probably be touched, a deer path, a cabin with silver-grey wood, smoke from a chimney that nobody has lit, a c

Close Your Eyes and Let Go
Hi, Sleepy.Tonight we begin in the benigning, which is not a word, but it might be a place. A small Swedish-English place where I stand with my pockets full of half-working words, wondering if I have enough of them to carry us through the night.From there we somehow move toward a forest, an axe, my dad, and that old strange fear that maybe there is something wrong with me in a way no one has notic

Rust, Moss and the End of the List
In this episode, Sleepy, I try to list everything in the universe before the hour is over. It starts well, with light, the moon, spoons and dust, but then reality becomes rude and starts unfolding in too many directions at once.There are atoms, hiccups, moss, mirrors, shadows, debt, mushrooms, rust, gravity, sleep, and possibly a doctor pie. There is also the strange fact that most things are empt

Words That Wander Home
Tonight I fall into the strange little trapdoor between Swedish and English, Sleepy, where one word is perfectly innocent on one side of the sea and slightly alarming on the other.There will be Swedish words. Real ones. Suspicious ones. A few that sound rude but are mostly about road signs, ice cream, children, baths, herring, nurses, kindness and the grief of standing in a doorway. Somewhere in t

The Birch Trees Remembered First
Hi Sleepy. Tonight we wander into that strange little gap before a feeling has a name. A sound moves the air in your ear, a smell opens a basement door inside you, a birch tree in the wind becomes childhood, and suddenly the body has arrived long before the words come running after it, late and out of breath.There are grannies, boomers, vowels and bowels, thunder at the kitchen table, a cemetery w

It Is What It Is, Said the Moon
Tonight I circle around the small surrender of it is what it is, Sleepy. Weather, gravity, cold tea, ancient rocks, dogs, cats, seeds cracking open in the dark, and the strange comfort of being a tiny passenger on a planet that refuses to ask our permission.This is a soft, wandering journey to sleep about the things we can’t control, the things growing quietly inside us, and the lighthouse keeper

How Do You Know If You Love Someone?
In this episode I sit on a slightly uncomfortable bar stool in my Stockholm apartment and begin, somehow, with posture. Then we drift, Sleepy, into figure skating, old video cameras, a very expensive leather jacket, a glass of red wine at "The Prince", and the strange fear of being loved too directly.There are teenage storage rooms, unfinished feelings, first relationships, cowardly letters, phone

The Fox Has All the Time in the World
In this episode, Sleepy, I speak from my apartment instead of my little studio in the backyard, surrounded by a portable recording booth, a stiff bar stool, and the faint sound of children in the yard outside.From there, my mind wanders to kindergarten, clay birds with bright feathers, fur coats in a hallway, and the strange fact that some part of me may still be waiting to be picked up. Then I dr

The Butterfly Orchestra Was Too Loud
In this episode, Sleepy, we wander into the strange workshop of theatre itself. The table readings, the shoes, the frightened directors, the actors holding scripts like shields, the sacred line about saddling the king’s horses. I remember rehearsal rooms, wild-horse masculinity, Shakespeare chairs turned the wrong way, and the old ache of feeling like the dork in an eighties high school movie.Then

Purring Through the Apocalypse
Hi Sleepy. Tonight we begin in the usual humble abode, that small studio in the backyard where the past still keeps some furniture, and we drift from sticky thoughts to electric shocks, from the mystery of knowledge forming in the brain to Flingan the tick-covered philosopher cat.There is a warehouse dream in here somewhere. A studio inside a studio. A window with light outside it. There is also a

Backseat Childhood Boy
Tonight, Sleepy, we begin with seagulls, of course. The old fish-gulls of Stockholm, one of them swallowing a whole pizza with the quiet dignity of a fallen emperor.From there we drift into walnuts, childhood, the strange power of being the only one who has ever seen a particular thing, and then somehow, quite naturally, into alcohol, acting school, red wine, Sambuca on fire, shame, freedom, lonel

The Forest in the Blue
Tonight, Sleepy, we begin in the blue, get dropped into a forest of the mind, and somehow end up discussing mist, Apple Watch pressure, Swedish community buildings, the dark forest theory, lonely Facebook groups, English consonants, weird words, escape goats, tigers, American politics, Swedish myths, tiny wrists and the strange comfort of being alive at the same time as someone else.This is an epi

Worlds Deepen, and We Cry
Tonight, Sleepy, we begin with a telephone meeting, pass through the strange social weather of voices without faces, and somehow end up inside Seinfeld, holding a babka with a hair in it and asking questions no one strictly asked us to ask.This is an episode about what happens when a tiny thought opens a trapdoor. About Jerry, George, Elaine and Kramer, yes, but also about world-building, childhoo

Keeping Your Head Up, Sometimes
Hi Sleepy.Tonight I sit in a tin container in the backyard, talking about monkeys. Not real monkeys. Pieces of monkey. You and me. Worried, wandering, trying to control things that don’t listen.We drift through spring in Stockholm, where the light insists on hope while something quieter resists. A neighbor appears with a memory of a house that no longer exists, and suddenly we’re talking about wha

Don’t Try to Fall Asleep
Hi Sleepy.I start somewhere near a phone. Or maybe in the absence of one. I circle around how we look at screens to escape a world that doesn’t quite fit its own stories anymore. Then I drift. Into Jack Bauer, into old TV rhythms, into the idea that maybe we’ve lost the space in between things. The grey. The place where nothing has to be decided.You’re there, somewhere between listening and not li

A God with Edges
Sleepy… tonight I find myself somewhere between a waiting room and a memory of falling down the stairs with a sandwich in mind.I talk about time that disappears when no one is looking. About being early. Always early. Sitting there while life behaves perfectly most of the time, even if we insist on remembering when it doesn’t. I drift into my daughter, into the quiet panic of missing her and the e

Constance and the Echo of Last Year
Hi Sleepy.Tonight I start a story and immediately question it, which feels right. There’s a woman named Constance Mallory. She has green shutters she once painted during a summer that didn’t try to be anything special. And a house that knows her. Or thinks it does.We move slowly through rooms, through habits, through the sound a coat makes when it meets a hook. And then something is slightly off.

Rain on the Car Roof
Sleepy… tonight I’m sitting with the strange feeling that I might still be me. I checked earlier. The mirror confirmed it. Henrik is still Henrik, at least for now.This episode begins just after a live recording of the podcast. A small basement room in Stockholm filled with mattresses, tea, candy, quiet laughter, and a harp playing softly while people waited. Sixty or so humans gathered in a cozy

A Small Peace in a Stone Room
Sleepy.Tonight begins, as it often does, with nothing in particular. A welcome to new listeners. A quiet confession that this whole thing might be “content striving to be non-content.” And then, slowly, the mind wanders.We drift through questions about what really matters. A conversation with Nina about our daughter. A small opera meeting about Händel’s Giulio Cesare that somehow opens a door to b

Warm Hands, Cold Night
Hi Sleepy!I start with my hands.Not in a dramatic way. Just soap bubbles and warm water and suddenly the realization that these hands have been with me my whole life. They’ve touched thousands upon thousands of objects I don’t remember. Door handles, coffee mugs, faces, fish-shaped cutting boards that looked more like potatoes with fins.We wander through Falun’s red dust under my childhood nails.

Confusion Is a Friend
Hi Sleepy. Tonight we float around in the sticky, beautiful weirdness of time. Physics time, dad-time, VHS-time, London-time. The kind of time where a star is a memory and a red light becomes a small moral philosophy.I talk about my broken English, my inner critic, and the strange rebel that keeps turning the microphone on anyway. We visit Darth Vader as my first real encounter with the word “evil

Wanna Fall Asleep with Henrik? Start here.
Welcome. This is a short introduction for those of you who just found the show. A lot of new Sleepys have arrived lately. I'm so glad you did, and if you have any questions or just want to say hi, just reach out to me on any social media or visit my website.ABOUT FALL ASLEEP WITH HENRIK and HOW TO USE IT:This is an improvised sleep podcast. I don’t prepare anything in advance. I sit down, press re

A Violin in the Tall Grass
Hi Sleepy.Tonight I welcome the new UK listeners with slightly nervous hands (if your'e a new listener from the UK, please reach out and say hello), and a very Swedish accent. I explain what this is. Or try to. An improvised hour. No preparation. English as a second language. Me wandering off and sometimes coming back.We talk about dreams and why they are considered boring, about childhood clichés

Before Morning Decides
Hi Sleepy.Tonight I sit in Adventure Wolf, listening to a hum that might be a machine, or maybe just the world breathing. I talk about jars on kitchen counters, about things we never asked, about kindness that arrives without explanation, like a cup of coffee placed on a table and nothing more.This is an episode about small things that carry weight. Seeds that may or may not be real. Grandmothers’

Layers of Blue
Hi Sleepy.This is one of those episodes where the talking just keeps walking. From a cold Stockholm morning to bluish mountains in Dalarna (The Valleys). From old theater hierarchies, fear, and drunk directors, to a warm container called Adventure Wolf where nothing is demanded of anyone.I talk about growing older without growing certain. About fame that once felt urgent and now feels heavy. About

Existence Customer Service
Sleepy, it’s snowing in Stockholm and I’m tired of the snow. I sit in Adventure Wolf with a phone in my hand and a vague, familiar heaviness in my body. So I do the only reasonable thing: I call Existence Customer Service.There’s hold music that feels older than language, a menu that can’t handle mixed feelings, and a guy named Gary who sounds kind, tired, and weirdly official about the fact that

Saying Yes to What Is
Sleepy, tonight I wander without a map.I talk about speaking broken English into a microphone and not fixing it. About shame, karaoke bars, Stockholm nights, and the strange courage it takes to stay. I circle illness, family, altruism, and the calm that sometimes arrives when drama stops being useful. This is a quiet hour of drifting thoughts, pauses, and company. You don’t have to listen closely.

What is Fall Asleep with Henrik?
Hi, I’m Henrik.And this is Fall Asleep with Henrik.This is a podcast where I talk for about an hour in each episode. I don’t use a script, and I don’t edit anything out. I just speak into the microphone, letting my thoughts wander, with the simple intention of helping you fall asleep.Sometimes I talk about memories.Sometimes about everyday things.Sometimes about serious topics, strange ideas, or n

A Studio Under Snow
Hi Sleepy.Tonight I’m talking from a room that’s almost been swallowed by snow. Somewhere outside, Stockholm is doing what it does when it remembers winter. From there my thoughts drift to old films, Hollywood habits, guns that always need to be looked at, villains who talk to aquariums, and why people in movies never behave like real humans in danger.We wander through The Mission, bad dialogue, g

Shelters in Hostile Worlds
Hi Sleepy.Tonight I sit in my living room while Stockholm freezes quietly outside. The moon keeps doing what it’s always done, showing us the same face it showed dinosaurs, emperors, saints, and people who never slept well either. I drift between craters, old police non-events, Antarctica fantasies, places I’ll never go, and the strange comfort of shelters in hostile worlds. Nothing is planned. No

It’s Okay Because It’s Fine
Hi Sleepy.This episode begins in a living room with a plastic Christmas tree that has done its job and is now just standing there. From there, I wander through crowded warehouse stores, grocery aisles, guilt, scale, stars, microorganisms, language mistakes, and the strange comfort of knowing that the information that divides cells in you is ancient and uninterrupted.It’s a quiet, drifting episode

Close Your Eyes, Press Play, Trust Me
Hi, Sleepy.Tonight we start in “the benigning” with my Swedish-English tongue and the fear of not having enough words, and somehow end up in a forest with an axe, my dad, and the old intrusive thought that maybe I’m secretly a monster. On the way there we invent a terrible podcast called “Grunts from the Gym,” complain about heavy breathing strangers, and sneak into a Pilates class… standing in th

The Night We Walked Through The Snow To Grandma
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 crooke

Walking Through Castle Forest at Night
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

These Are The Good Days, Sleepy
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 someon

Harmony, Please
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

Meet Me There Tonight
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 fa

Rain on Adventure Wolf
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 throu

Nothing Is Dangerous (For a Moment)
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 poli

Vacuum Rituals & Other Soft Noises
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

Come and Get Me, Sleep
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

Koko, the Guide, and the Lavender Shawl
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, drif

Stockholm at 11:35
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 introspec

A Small Pause Where Nothing Must Happen
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 fro

Town Called Rest at the Edge of Dust
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

Gilded Core, Quiet River
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 w

A Star Pulls the Night Forward
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 t

The Binder, the Band, and the Butterfly
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 chang

The Beautiful Boy in Autumn
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 b

Maya and the Glass Forest
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

The Dog on My Chest
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 Ros

Five Ways to Drift
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

The Beetle and the Melancholic Ape
Hi, Sleepy.It’s vacation. That ambiguous soup of time where everything’s supposed to soften, slow down, sparkle. But what if it doesn’t? What if your inner rhythm just… refuses to change? In this summer-soaked episode, I step out of my apartment and wander through Stockholm’s shaded parks. I meet roses, ducks, and eventually a sarcastic, unexpectedly wise beetle who calls me a melancholic ape and

The Darkness Is Not Afraid of You
Hi Sleepy. Tonight we investigate the duties of a dude, explore the dangers of barfing in Bermuda, and invent book titles together in a kind of dreamy publishing house of the mind. I’ll be your messy thinker while you drift off to sleep, and together we’ll wander into absurd forests, revisit long-lost friendships, contemplate public pouting birch trees, and relive the time I failed gracefully in f

A Tower, a Dragon, and My Mother
Hi Sleepy. This episode starts somewhere between a weather forecast and an unknown song, and then tumbles headfirst into illusions, windmills, and the inexplicable human need to throw raw eggs into fans. I talk about nutcases (actual nuts may be involved), being a self-observing street rat, and my unwavering defence of my mother when I was seventeen and vibrating with teenage fury.We ponder the pe

Fall Asleep with Henrik Trailer
Welcome to Fall Asleep with Henrik! This isn’t meditation. And it’s not a bedtime story. It’s me — Henrik — talking softly, strangely, truthfully, until your brain gives up. Fall Asleep with Henrik. A podcast like nothing else. Every week. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Who's Holding the Camera?
Hi Sleepy.I’m not inspired today. Which is perfect, really. Because what better place to begin than from absolutely nowhere?We start with a cheerful dead mouse – not a real one – but a rollercoaster. We imagine its wild, happy face as we plunge into the Stockholm archipelago, which I pronounce about seven times too many. Somewhere along the way I try to explain the meaning of “Stockholm” while for

The Fingertip of Bliss
Hi Sleepy. Do you ever feel like you’ve swapped yourself out, part by part, until you’re a totally different person, yet somehow still…you? Tonight, we set sail on the ship of Theseus, only to lose the rudder and find a violin instead. We spiral through liquid glass interfaces from the ’90s, winter mornings at minus 30°C, the dizzy terror of spinning taxis, and an oak tree that may or may not live

Descend Into Decency
Welcome, Sleepy. Tonight we travel nowhere and everywhere. From rain-soaked Stockholm afternoons to marble statues of sorrow in the dark, from sugar-longings and beard-brushed foreheads in a monk’s TV room to the simple bewilderment of carrying too many plastic bags—this episode drifts through it all.There will be illusions, instant gratification, loneliness, monks with “French nerves,” disappoint

We’re Alone, Together
Hi, Sleepy. Tonight, I’m laying on my sofa—yes, laying, not lying, although I’m probably also lying a bit—and speaking into the soft Stockholm summer night. The world outside my window is holding its breath, and I guess I’m doing something similar inside. We talk about minds touching across time and space, about Harold the hamster who won’t stop running, and the child who asked her father, “Why do

Higher, Deeper, Crumblier
Hi Sleepy. I’m not in my studio tonight. I’m in my living room, and you’re welcome to wander around—mentally, I mean. This is one of those episodes where I try to record two in a row and end up walking straight into my own metaphors. Tonight, I tell you about my gingerbread pig. No, really. A real one, from childhood. It flew through the air and shattered, and maybe something inside me did too. Bu

This Is Not a Dream, Sleepy
Hi Sleepy. Welcome back to my humble abode!Tonight, we tumble headfirst into memory. A snowy road, a sausage in the oven, a father who cries over forgotten ice cream.We visit a small trauma in 1980s Sweden, a forgotten needle, a hardened ball of modeling clay, a retreating mother in a silent convent. And somehow it all connects to sleep. Or doesn’t.There are no morals here. No advice. Just the tru

You Are Not Your Panic
Hi, Sleepy. Today we glide into a fog of unfinished business, unbarked dogs, and AK-free mornings. We talk Ice Cube, yes—but not clinically. We also marvel at billion-year-old granite counters, their immovability, their unapologetic permanence. We spiral through dizziness and its deceit, and hover somewhere between sorrow, friendship, and the myth of eternal romantic unity. There’s song lyrics (so

Existential Comfort Food
Welcome back, Sleepy. Tonight, it's just you and me again—Henrik, here in my little studio in Stockholm, whispering gently into your ear with my weird dialect and my equally peculiar point of view. It's early, earlier than I'd prefer, and summer has burst upon Stockholm almost overnight, turning everything brilliantly, inexplicably green. How does that always happen?We'll wander together through a

Big Spaces, Small Hearts
Hi Sleepy. Tonight we stand together on the edge of something that maybe was never there to begin with. I talk about the third arm that vanished, the cliff that never was, and the Pope I almost licked. We float through cathedral ceilings and asphalt plains, childhood fears and ABBA-induced tears, trying not to fall—or at least not fall alone. There’s Harriet, singing in the car. There’s my dad, ho

Just One of Those Nights, Sleepy
Hi, Sleepy. This is me again. Henrik. Floating above the endless void of meaning and language and strangely shaped English sentences. In tonight’s episode, I reflect on the tragic beauty of being a Swedish man with a microphone and no filter. We talk about parenting, loneliness, oceans, boats, triangles on Venus, the impossibility of controlling anything, and the maddening mystery of what birthday

This Is Not a Sleep Podcast (But Maybe It Is)
Hi, Sleepy. Welcome to this oddly brave little boat of a podcast, wobbling out into the great English-speaking sea with nothing but mismatched oars, a thermos of lukewarm tea, and your host, Me: Henrik – a nervous Swede with no plan and all the feelings. This is the very first step, a humble monologue about nothing and everything: fear of failure, boyhood nostalgia, sleep as a kind of vacation, an

Between You and me, Why did he join the navy?
Sleepy, tonight’s journey to sleep is less about neat conclusions and more about wandering through the vaults of your childhood imagination—swimming in coins, stumbling through radish economies and spy mice in pillar boxes. It is what it is. What happens happens, and right now there’s nothing we can do but let our thoughts drift where they may. Let my half-remembered broken english on ducks, toads

Square Dancing with Ghosts
Hi Sleepy.Tonight’s episode is a softly crumbling biscuit of memory, longing, and the strangely delicious ache of childhood love. We wander back to Linghed, where horses bite, letters go undelivered, and a small boy (me) tries to explain feelings with plastic pearls and lies about the post office.I wonder what love really is—whether it’s chemicals, a fog, or simply a horse you pretend to like. I r

Debris, Please Stay Awhile
Sleepy… what happens, happens. And right now, there’s nothing we can do about it. So let’s go...In this episode, I do what I do best: I forget what I’m doing halfway through doing it, and continue doing it anyway. I talk to you about disaster. Not the dramatic kind, but the kind you're born into—life as a pile of debris to build something beautiful out of. We wander from a lion-infested South Afri

Conversations from the Lighthouse
Hi Sleepy. So, here we are again—just you and me, Henrik. Tonight, I’m nervous and curious all at once, trying out this whole speaking-English-with-a-Swedish-accent thing. It makes me feel both exotic and, let’s be honest, a little awkward. I'll probably ramble about what it feels like when Swedes encounter confident English speakers abroad and how quickly we wish we could disappear through the gr

Campfire Smoke
Smoke gets in my eyes, Sleepy.Tonight, we wander through the fog—the good kind, the dreamy kind. The kind where thoughts are like lazy ghosts around a campfire, dodging the marshmallows and heading straight for your face. I talk about mopeds, naturally. And being an idiot. Also naturally. Youth, spicy food, graves under church carpets, and the weight of choosing love—whatever that means.There’s a

Wolf Shield’s Daughter
Hi Sleepy. Tonight, we trace the tangled threads of Henrik’s lineage — from noble knights with goat-pensions and helmet-fields, to tall matriarchs in hypnotic 60's dresses, to smoky kitchen dances and secret jewelry sessions on shaggy bedroom carpets.We meet King Håkon Longlegs (or… do we?), Wolf Shield heiresses, and the dignified stillness of people who have seen things. Henrik pours out ancestr

A Gap Between Timelines
In this meandering nighttime journey, Henrik takes us through the complex emotions of family reunions and generational differences. From a meaningful celebration of his parents' 50th wedding anniversary to reflections on his childhood as the eldest of six siblings, Henrik weaves together past and present in his signature stream-of-consciousness style.Listen as Henrik contemplates the forests aroun

Have you ever met a fox, Sleepy?
In the enchanting realm of Henrik's stream of consciousness, this episode weaves a fantastical tale of a kingdom called Aurelia where power and wealth are concentrated in the hands of a few. We follow Jack, a clever trickster who encounters a magical woman in the Elderwood Forest and embarks on a mission to challenge the corrupt King Ulrik and his self-serving advisors.Henrik's storytelling meande











