What do you think about in the middle of the night? Do you wake at 2am as if at the clapping of hands, one moment dreaming and the next intensely awake, eyelids twitching, feet unstoppable, your shoulders creeping toward your ears, hipbones like a stack of bricks under your forearm? Does the pillow always bunch the wrong way? Do you beg yourself to sleep? Do you flop, roll, flop, roll. Count sheep, count unicorns, count the flaws of Donald Trump. Count the hours you might get if you go back t...