Nomatophobia is the fear of names — a malady from which I, obviously, do not suffer.
I don't quite get how this one works, though. I can understand phobias that involve tangible objects or situations, like being afraid of a snake or a gun, or of being in a high place or a closed-in place. But nomatophobia . . . that's a fear of one of the human brain's most basic functions. The first words we teach children are the labels, or names, for the people and things in their environments. We do this by instinct, and we know that a child or even an adult who can't dredge up the name for something will make one up on his own. It's human nature to label things. It's a necessity.
Can you imagine fearing to do that? Our language would be devoid of nouns if we were all nomatophobic. And even if the fear only extended to proper names, that would leave us all nameless, and therefore without identity. We'd have no way to describe who we are. We couldn't even describe the events of the day of we couldn't name the actors who set them in motion. Communication would be at a standstill.
Shakespeare asked, "What's in a name?" I'd say plenty.