As a young one, I never understood this grown-up business of troubled sleep. I wondered what the terms of this condition were, what could it possibly feel like? For me, sleep came easy, often and full of vivid dreams that infused waking hours, which looped back into dreams, making a mesh we didn’t question.

Sleep also came when it was not supposed to — during exams, math class and screenings of landmark art films, exactly during those path-breaking sequences that critics had praised at length, which would be discussed in class next day.