Peeta, how come I never know when you're having a nightmare?” I say. β€œI don't know. I don't think I cry out or thrash around or anything. I just come to, paralyzed with terror,” he says. β€œYou should wake me,” I say, thinking about how I can interrupt his sleep two or three times on a bad night. About how long it can take to calm me down. β€œIt's not necessary. My nightmares are usually about losing you,” he says. β€œI'm okay once I realize you're here.