I sometimes couldn't sleep well at night when I was young, possibly, 5 or 6 years old. My father used to read a book by Carl Hilty, a swiss philosopher. The title was "For Sleepless Nights". Of course, it was translated to Japanese. At that age, I might not be able to understand the content at all. He might read it for himself or wanted me to remember of that book when I grew up.
At this age, I often have insomnia again. It is due to aging. Maybe, a glass of beer I enjoy earlier in the evening might disturb sound sleep. Whatever the cause might be, I often stay up until this time in morning, that is, 3:30AM. Most quiet and dark before dawn. At this time in a day, imagination and contemplation wings its way. On the past, present and future. I wonder if I am going on in the right way.
I felt as if wrapped with my father's affection when he read that book. A peaceful and satisfying moment. When I was in teen age days, I sometimes criticized him in my mind that his love toward family was a kind of self-satisfying. I could not deny it completely. But he has loved us in his way. Or I would not recall of the scene he was reading "For Sleepless Nights" for me in this way.
I would look for that book and go on reading it for myself again.