Peeta, how come I never know when you’re having a nightmare? I say.
I don’t know. I don’t think I cry out or thrash around or anything. I just come to, paralyzed with terror, he says.
You 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.
It’s not necessary. My nightmares are usually about losing you, he says. I’m okay once I realize you’re here.
— Suzanne Collins, Catching Fire