In any happy situation I am prone to imagine the worst that could happen. It's a habit. When we're in the car I picture the gruesome particulars of a sudden collision, the moment of impact and bodies strewn about, flaming wreckage. I've imagined being stabbed by passersby, balconies collapsing, fatal choking at a birthday party, you name it. I wonder why I do that. Maybe it's superstitious, as if dreaming such events somehow gives them sufficient life so that they won't demand a more authentic existence. I think the worst so that the worst won't touch me, as if all it needs is acknowledgement to be warded off or appeased. But of course the worst does happen, all the time, just as much to people obsessed with it as to the most annoying pollyannas. And sometimes hypochondriacs contract fatal illnesses, the very ones they were always afraid of getting. So there's no charm or talisman, you can think whatever you want, events don't care.