When I drive past people on the street, I imagine what it would feel like to hit a human body with my car. I like to consider the differences between various speeds of travel. When I walk across a street, I imagine what it would feel like to be hit by a car and then have panicky thrills when I envision a car suddenly appearing in the corner of my eye, a transplant from another time or dimension for the explicit purpose of running me over so then I can know what it would feel like. At stop signs, I hesitate for a split second as I venture into the intersection as I think about what it feels like to be hit from the side in a car. This thought has sound effects. It's my best imagining because it's less imagining and more remembering.
In the dark, I imagine the scary things around me. Sometimes I still jump onto my bed so I don't have to step on the floor near the under-the-bed zone where it waits to grab me. The same sort of approach applies when I get into my car, especially at night. I can vividly imagine a hand grabbing my ankle and slicing my Achilles tendon.
I hate being followed up stairs. I feel like the person behind me will grab my ankles.
In water, I imagine the fish and monsters just beneath my feet. I can't hold still in water.
When I put my hand down a garbage disposal, I'm sure it's going to turn on and eat my hand. I do this one at work a lot. Hillary reminded me.
I'm scared to fall in love or be fallen in love with.
I sometimes have nightmares about spiders or headlights.
Thinking about monkeys makes my stomach hurt a little.
I'm thinking about these things that I'm afraid of, and the way they affect the way I feel, act and move. I realize how much time I spend each day hiding mini fits of panic about one thing or another.

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