I don't like heights. Flew a gazelle with the doors off recently and it felt awful. Totally irrational, but a feeling nonetheless. Doors back on and problem went away..
I can equate to that - doors-off photo shoot over the middle of the Falklands, at some stupid height. Motor-drive on old-fashioned film camera. "Right," says our intrepid photographer (the Pilot) "gentle pedal turn while I get a panoramic spread." Me (Aircrewman) peering down at not a lot, gently pushed at one of the pedals. Two frames later, David Bloody Bailey runs out of battery. Interesting couple of minutes while the camera gear got stowed and the pilot got to grips with the configuration I'd got us into.
Did a drop of free-fall parachutists from a Lynx over Edinburgh once, and had an overwhelming desire to jump out after them, but that may have had more to do with the crappy aircraft.
One that has come back to haunt me over the fifteen years since I retired from flying, is wires. They feature in my dreams regularly, despite never having had an encounter during my flying.