A peril which I conjured up seemingly from thin air was aviophobia. I had flown on airplanes and traveled the world and was not one bit anxious while flying. Nevertheless, persistently one night after another I would have vivid dreams of planes veering onto the earth. The predicament was not of the dreams themselves, but when I snapped violently to reality. Those nights I would have severe anxiety attacks, sweating, inability to even breathe, furthermore an uncontrollable shaking. Some nights the foreseen thought of sleeping petrified me due to the traumatizing perception of dying. Never succumbing to notify anyone even my family out of knowing it was an irrational fear, which I only could circumvent. What would they think of me? This was my
