I anticipate constantly something awful happening. H will get sick, I know it. Every time he complains of feeling tired, I "know" he has lung cancer. Even though I know I know nothing of the sort. But I dread that happening.
I imagine my dog being hurt. sharp knife in the nostril, slicing upward. And her pain and fear. It horrifies me--I don't know why I think about it.
I imagine hurting myself. Or I imagine things hurting me. Slicing cheese with a dull, pointed knife, I imagine falling on the point the point entering the corner of my eye the blade turning to tear tissues rupture membranes release blood and gelatinous mess.
Less gory but still unnerving--this constant sense of Very Bad Things About to Happen.
I don't want to think about these things, but I do. Not all the time, but often enough. I don't tell anyone.