Peeta, how come I never know when you're having a nightmare?β I say. βI don't know. I don't think I cry out or thrash around or anything. I just come to, paralyzed with terror,β he says. βYou should wake me,β 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. βIt's not necessary. My nightmares are usually about losing you,β he says. βI'm okay once I realize you're here.
To this day, I can never shake the connection between this boy, Peeta Mellark, and the bread that gave me hope, and the dandelion that reminded me that I was not doomed.
