Amanda P., a 28-year-old single woman, returns home to London after a work trip to America. She has been in New York for 10 days. She lives alone. She sets her briefcase down on the doorstep, and, as she turns her key in the lock, an idea takes hold. “I had this fantasy - I saw it like a film: turning the key triggers some sort of detonator and the whole flat blows up, the door exploding off its hinges towards me, killing me instantly. I was imagining that terrorists had been in my flat and had carefully primed a bomb to kill me. Why would I have such a crazy fantasy?”
Or consider these fleeting paranoid fantasies: Lara G. has an appointment with her boss. Because they have not spoken for several weeks, Lara is certain that she is going to be fired. Instead, she is dumbfounded when she is offered a promotion and a pay increase. Then there is George N. who, while he is showering, occasionally fears that the shower curtain will be pulled back and he will be murdered, “a la Hitchcock's Psycho.”
Most, if not all, of us have had irrational fantasies at one time or another. And yet we rarely acknowledge them - even to spouses or close friends. We find them difficult, even impossible, to talk about. We don't know what they signify or say about us. Are they a sign that we are breaking down? Momentarily mad? There are various theories about why paranoid fantasies are a part of normal mental life. One is that paranoia allows us to rid ourselves of certain aggressive feelings. Anger is unconsciously projected: “I don't want to hurt him, he wants to hurt me.” Another theory holds that paranoia allows us to deny our own unwanted sexual feelings: “I don't love him, I hate him and he hates me.” Both of these descriptions may well apply, but neither seems quite sufficient.