He tells me that he knows a number of people who don’t respect my work and have maligned my reputation. I’m anxious to find out what they’re saying, and I ask him who these people are. He lists off names of people I’ve never heard of and have never worked with. I tell him that I don’t really care if those people don’t respect me, since I don’t know who they are. I list off a few people whose opinions I do respect, but he says they’ve never said a bad word about me.

We descend into the London Tube. The stations are white with bright primary colors, as if they were decorated to mimic the iconic London Underground map.

I’m miffed that I haven’t been asked to give a speech. I get up to walk out of the room and the speaker calls down to me and asks if I’d like to speak. I act condescending and say that I’m too busy. Later, as I’m watching people talk, I wonder why I said that. I should have just admitted that I wanted to talk. But it seems like it’s too late.

I set out boxes of thank you cards on a table at the side of the conference. They have the Bond logo on them. I encourage people to take a card and write a thank-you note to someone they want to give thanks to.

Later, I am working on a project with Friedman. I want to make changes to something on a website but I can’t figure out how. He comes over and shows me the edit link. It’s too small to see.

When the mover arrives he says that we can’t just pile our stuff on the beds, everything has to be packed in suitcases or boxes. I look at the new bunk beds and realize they’re too small—you wouldn’t be able to sit up if you were in the bottom bunk. I say that we’ll have to return the new beds and find better ones.

I make an announcement to the entire group about this. I tell everyone I have two things to tell them: 1) they have to pack their stuff and 2) we need to buy new beds. While I’m talking, someone comes up and interrupts me between points one and two. I get annoyed since it’s clear I’m still talking, and I’m nervous about people’s response.

Everyone is upset but instead of complaining about packing, they complain about the fact that they moved out of their parents’ homes. Everyone agrees that living with their parents was much better than this. They all glare at me like it’s my fault. I feel responsible, like it’s because of me that they can’t go home again.

When I wake up, though, I learn that I have to go to a funeral for Evan’s mother. It is a bit unusual, though, because she isn’t actually dead. She decided that she wanted to have her funeral while she was still alive, so that she could enjoy the party. People whisper and gossip about this, because they think it’s inappropriate to attend your own funeral.

The funeral is lavish and there’s lots of different food. But I’m constantly checking my watch because I know I need to get to my meeting. I call the person I’m supposed to be meeting with at 10:30 and explain I’m at a funeral. Then I wonder why I didn’t just do that in the first place.

Josh is up at the front of the room, discussing ideas for the site with the rest of the students. At a certain point I become alarmed because people are talking about ideas that I don’t agree with and aren’t what I’m envisioning for the site. I decide to go up to the front and share what I’ve been working on. When I review my sketches I try to find the one that is closest to what I’m imagining, but they’re all not quite right.

At the front of the room, Josh and I are seated behind a black panel with windows cut into it. From the perspective of the students, it looks like the teacher is talking to them directly, but behind the scrim we can talk privately, consult our notes, and even have snacks. Josh has a nearly full bottle of vodka and some sandwiches back there, and I help myself.

The students are getting quite agitated about our plans for the website. I can’t quite tell if they’re in junior high, college, or even if they’re young employees of Bond. They are shouting and arguing with both me and Josh. He’s pretty calm but I get increasingly frustrated. I yell back at them that their ideas are too boring an ordinary. I tell them that if they don’t understand why our vision is right for Bond, then maybe the problem is that they are not a good fit.

This makes them very upset and they decide to protest. The entire third row stands up and lights cigarettes. While they smoke, I call down to the main office to ask for help from security. The secretary in the office sounds bored and tells me they can’t really help solve this problem.

I can’t find my desk and I spend a long time wandering through all the rooms looking for it. Eventually I find a very dirty room, way in the back, that no one else seems to be using, and I decide to take a desk there. I find Nate and ask him where all my boxes of stuff are, but he’s harried and overwhelmed and can’t help me.

I’m concerned about what we’re going to name the new company. I don’t want all the former Razorfish executives to take over and not give the Bond people a say in the new brand.

I am assigned to work on the JCPenney project. Our work seems to involve digging a large trench and finding artifacts in the dirt. Most of the items have been wrapped in newspaper, and the date on the paper is 1982. My mother is there to help me dig, and I find many pieces from my childhood, like items that used to sit on bookshelves in the basement, or knicknacks from the living room.

I’m going through and formatting all the post titles. Josh T sits next to me and tells me that I should hit cmd-B to make the text bold, and I’m insulted that he thought he needed to tell me that. Then Mira has some new ideas for how it should be designed, and we have to reformat it all again.

I go up to present and it takes me a long time to pull up the wireframes I need to show. A big group of people is watching me and I’m embarrassed that I don’t have anything to present.

I start presenting by saying that I worked with Disney nearly ten years ago and at the time they really didn’t understand what wireframes were. I had to educate people about how they fit into the development process.

Today, they’re using wireframes but I’m concerned that they’re not being used to focus on the right things. I show an example of a wireframe that looks like a designed page, with all sorts of images and shading in the background, except it’s in black and white. I try to explain that wireframes should really be used to help focus the discussion on the interaction model and the architecture, and should not try to replicate the desired visual design at a lower fidelity.

As I’m leaving the cashier comes over and says that I haven’t paid enough money. I become extremely irritated with her and make a big show of getting more money out of my purse. I dump everything out of my wallet onto the counter and start counting out dimes and nickels to give to her.

When she asks me why I’m so annoyed, I get really embarrassed. I tell her in a soft voice that I’m pregnant. She can’t hear what I’m saying and she asks me to repeat myself, and so I say it again in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear. People turn around and seem shocked. I’m so humiliated by this that I grab a few quarters and hand them to her, and then grab my stuff and dash out of the shop.

When I get to work I have an RFP for Bic pens to work on. My office is in a big cubicle farm and I wander among the cubicles to get to the office supply area so I can get some different Bic pens and pencils. I return to my office and make an appointment at the doctor for that afternoon so I can have an abortion.

I walk through the hallways to go visit the doctor. Along the way I run into a man who I know from the past, maybe someone I knew in high school. I’m too focused on getting to my doctor’s appointment to talk to him, even though he repeatedly tries to engage me in conversation.

When I get to the doctor’s office the receptionist tells me that my appointment time isn’t until much later in the afternoon. I get agitated and ask her if there’s any way she can fit me in earlier. I am eager to get this over with.

To kill some time before my appointment I go next door to a cafeteria. The guy who I ran into in the hallway earlier is in there having lunch, and I have to talk to him anyway. But it’s difficult for me to find anything to talk about, since I can only think about how badly I want to have an abortion and I don’t want to tell him that.

Next I’m supposed to file an affidavit about a car being stolen. It seems like Sherri has asked me to help with this or it’s her car that is missing. As I am going through the files I come across a statement from Neil implicating me in the car theft. I look around to try and staple the documents together but none of the staplers are working and I have to use a paperclip.

I am working in a restaurant or a bar that is crowded with people. It’s hard for me to get it to work because people keep jostling me and I don’t have a mouse. I am frustrated by trying to get it to work the way I imagine it.

The presentation is about Prince, the pop star. He looks radically different in the photos, he’s not as made up and his hair is long. The document includes a lot of information about his charitable activities.

Toby is really helpful to me so I want to send him a token gift. I decide to send one of the Chinese Christmas ornaments I bought last winter. I pull the top off of the globe and wonder if I could stick a joint in there for him as well. But I decide not to and just send the package via interoffice mail.

To mail the gift I go and sit at my “real” desk; I don’t usually sit there because I’m always in meetings. While I’m there I decide to clean up some papers and generally organize things. I find a document about designing Macs that I think is terrible. I try to complain about it to HR but the bureaucrats there don’t understand what I’m talking about.

Michael Eisner (who has some connection to Apple via Disney) takes me to Disneyland to ride on the rides. But they aren’t really Disney theme park rides, they’re more like old-fashioned county fair rides.

I call Anne L and ask her for help with recruiting. We start discussing the recent rise in the stock price, and she makes it sound like she really made a lot of money. While I am on the phone with her, I can also omnisciently see her stock trades. She made about $2800, which is a nice dividend but it’s not like she’s rich.

I put on lipstick so I look nice before one of my meetings. I’m too fat and I can’t squeeze by someone in the hallway and I’m embarrassed.

We have lunch in Steve Jobs’ office. I’m very nervous about meeting him, but no one else is. Lunch is set up on a table in his office, and I am unsure about where to sit. I change places and accidentally drink someone else’s water.

There is a class at the U of M that somehow deals with this client or covers a related subject, and so it is decided that I should take the class. The class is very large and takes place in a big lecture hall. The instructor is a middle-aged woman with dark hair and glasses.

I turn in my final paper and receive a grade of "D." I’m very upset by this, and embarrassed that my work colleagues will see that I got a bad grade. I speak to the instructor and try to explain that the work I was doing for my client was different from what she expected from the final paper. What I want is for her to let me submit one of my presentation decks as additional work and maybe that will raise my grade.

Afterwards, a party for the whole class has been planned. We walk outside to go check it out. As we walk I bump into a college girl who’s walking in a pack, and we have words about the incident. I ask her "if it would be possible to walk through here without getting rudely bumped into." She accuses me of being a stupid college kid. When I respond that I’m not in college, I’m 35, she and her friends jeer at me.

I get to the restaurant where the party is taking place. When I arrive, only a blonde-haired guy and Susie are there with me. The restaurant has set a long table for us to sit at. Susie and the guy sit down next to each other, and I want to sit in the middle between them, but instead I take my place at Susie’s left.

Another student from class arrives, an older Asian man. He’s drunk and yelling at the entrance. I go over to try and get him to leave. He grabs me and kisses me, and as we stand there he tries to force himself on me. I struggle to cry out for help but I cannot make my voice work.

I’m driving in a car with a native american man as my chauffeur. All of  a sudden a truck explodes in another lane and a million shards of metal come streaming towards us, and I duck.

I am asked to review samples of the clothing line on racks. The clothes are both urban/street wear and girly at the same time. I look at a pinafore styled dress, and at a pair of sandals that are pink and green and seem to be made out of rubber.

I really like some of the clothing and I ask my client if I can buy some of it it. She says I have to call in the order.
We go over to a phone bank that is made up of old rotary dial phones. They are all black phones, some are from the 40s like the phone that was in the sewing room when I was a child, and some are newer but still black rotary phones.

I’m nervous after I place the order that the clothes will be very expensive. They do wind up to be more than $200.

At the client location there is a rally for the Reverend Al Sharpton to be president. My client attacks him and tries to strangle him with a telephone cord.

I leave the restaurant and walk through a series of hallways until I get to a large room that seems to be part of a research center. I find myself on top of a mountain made of office supplies, like file folders and paper products. I try to get down the mountain but I wind up on a ledge made of folders and I can’t get off. I lose my shoes along the way. I have to ask a man working there for help getting out of my predicament, and he just comes over and plucks me off. My handbag is left behind.

It turns out that I have been a victim of identity theft and credit cards have been opened in my name. Jai has opened an American Express account and has put several hundred thousand dollars of charges on it. He’s done this with his new boyfriend. I’m furious, absolutely filled with rage that he would do this to me. I scream at him but he doesn’t seem to care.

Someone at the research institution has also opened a credit card in my name and has put some charges on it. I cancel the cards and get Amex to reverse the charges, which apparently causes some problems for the researchers. They come and accuse me of messing up their plans, which seems ironic and backwards to me.

I go to look for my office and there are 2 or 3 other women in there. One of them is sitting on a twin-sized bed. I ask her if this is where she is staying and she says she had planned on it. I walk around and look at the other offices and most of them have been converted into bedrooms, some housing multiple people. I try to explain that most people have their own apartments they live in, and the office is just for working.

I go into the new kitchen but it’s terrible. None of the glasses match and there is nothing to eat or drink. I can’t find my water bottle, so I take a bottle of raspberry-flavored Diet Coke out of the refrigerator. This seems horrible to drink but I am thirsty and there’s nothing else.

I am stunned by how many people are working at Bond. There must be 40 or 50 people in the lunchroom, most of whom I have never seen before. I can’t find Evan or Josh to ask who all the people are. I talk to a middle-aged man who I think is the new CFO. He says that they have already released a handful of contractors who weren’t needed, but I am still concerned that we have too many people. It seems like most of them are HR or Finance.

I stand up on one of the lunch tables to  say a few words to everyone. As I am standing the table starts to move and I fall down and start laughing. I stand back up and warn everyone that the table is unsteady. I fall down a couple more times as I’m speaking.

I listen to a number of the speeches but I don’t think they’re very good. I see some colleagues there. One woman wins the award for best presentation at the end of the conference. She has recently had six children and is carrying them around in a bag. I’m impressed that she can manage her family and professional life so well.

I congratulate her on winning the award, but as we’re talking I also happen to say that I did not think the conference was very good this year and the speeches were weaker than I’d seen in years past. I realize belatedly that might come off as insulting to her, and I stumble over my words as I try to backtrack on what I just said.

The two girls I am supposed to work with are mean to me and I don’t like them. I have a sinking feeling when I find out I’m supposed to work with them.

The instructions for the essay test are given to me on an ornate, old-style vase of flowers. The vase has writing on it ad there are a number of misspelled words. I think the vase might be a gift from my father.

To answer one of the sections on the test I need to go back to my home. One of the girls I’m supposed to be working with says she’ll give me a ride there. When she drops me off she waves and says she’ll be right back, but I know she’s abandoning me and I’m screwed because I can’t get back to school.

As I’m stranded I think about whether I can walk and decide it will take too long. So I take a van back to campus with a bunch of other students. I keep looking at my watch and I realize I don’t have enough time to finish my essays, and I’m really anxious.

There’s a guy I’m afraid to run into sitting next to me in the van, but when I look more closely at him, he turns into a cute guy I’d like to meet.

We’re giving tours of our offices/apartments. My desk from my apartment at home is at the office. After the tours I notice that all my spare change from my change jar has been stolen. I feel irresponsible for having left it in there, I should have known better.

I’m standing at the wardrobe my mother had when I was a child. I’m folding sweaters and putting them in piles categorized by color.

I go out to lunch with some of the executives on my first day. I tell them that we’re going to do A/B testing to evaluate the changes we’re making. I explain how this will work, using Amazon as an example.

I tell them several times that the product might get worse instead of better. I describe how Amazon uses A/B testing to evaluate how new features help them sell more products, but that each additional feature makes the page harder to read and less visually appealing. I’m trying to tell them that even if we make the site more appealing, they might see an initial drop in sales.

I keep talking about this as we walk back to the car after lunch. I get my things out of the trunk of the car.

My mother takes a job working as the executive assistant to Mark Zuckerberg. She’s surprised at how different working for him is from the other jobs she’s had.

The room is set up like a party, there’s refrigerated cases with beer and wine. She doesn’t want anyone to drink. I open up some white wine anyway.

She keeps asking about an "Onset Object Model" and whether we have one or not. I don’t really understand what she means.

I’m rearranging the stuff in the office, moving people’s personal belongings and things they will want to take home with them to a different table. I want some more wine.

Jennifer Aniston is there complaining that her hair looks like shit. I tell her that she was Rachel and had the iconic hairstyle of the 90s, in an effort to make her feel better.

I need lunch but I’m afraid to go get it. I tell my boss I’m not going to go and he laughs and tells me to go eat.

I print out a menu. The place I go has a line of people waiting. My boss tells me I’ll be fighting a line at 3pm.

There’s a family in front of me that is taking forever to place their order. I yell at them to just order.

I listen to the advice and just have a salad.

When my boss calls I say I can’t come back yet.

I go into the bathroom to put on makeup. I put a lot on.

I go out and sit at a table by myself. She and her friends are sitting at a table across from me, eating and laughing. I eat from a large bowl filled with pearl onions and capers. Then I walk out on the street and try to hail a cab.

I’m dating a man who I’m very fond of, but when I google him it turns out he’s lied about his name and he’s married.

I’m working for Facebook. Paige N. is the director of marketing and she asks if I will attend a conference in her place. I’m flattered because I feel like I’m in an environment that respects what I do.

I attend her wedding. I’m in the bridal party and we’re all picking out our dresses on the day of the wedding. The dress I pick out is black and white and doesn’t really match the other dresses. I feel weird that I will stand out from the other attendants, but it doesn’t seem to matter to anyone else.

We’re at a restaurant for the reception but they aren’t prepared for us. No one comes over to help us or to seat us. I finally ask to speak to the manager, and then try to escalate things to the general manager. I’m frustrated that the restaurant can’t seem to get organized. I ask them if they want us to leave and go elsewhere, reminding them that a party of hundreds of guests would be worth a lot of money to them.

There’s a big group of people who have to review the drawings. They’re really critical of it and I feel stupid. I’m annoyed and fighting back at them. One woman is particularly harsh and I start talking up my qualifications (which makes me feel sort of embarrassed.)

I realize as I’m arguing that I really have screwed up the interface. The whole top nav of the diagram needs to be revised. And I keep walking back and forth repeatedly across the physical space with different objects, but I realize that the wireframe just needs a big checkout button on the top.

I’m trying to decide if I should organize people by horizontal or by pyramid.

People I see: Evan, Jeff, Josh, Jen Burke and my mother

Then all my friends turn on me. They’re older than me and they’re co-workers.

They’re trying to prevent me from winning an election or getting a prize.

I read a column in Wired magazine that’s like a press release describing what different people are doing professionally.

I’m living in a 1 BR apartment that is dark and dirty. My uncle Ed needs a place to stay and I offer to let him stay at my place, but I warn him that it’s filthy.

There are two big rooms in the apartment. They are both filled up to the ceiling with shelves that are stacked with old computer monitors and black plastic garbage bags. When I look up they seem to go on infinitely, stacks and stacks of garbage.

I find myself thinking that I should not move out of this apartment, there is no reason to leave. I tell myself the apartment is perfectly fine, it’s a nice place, and it’s inexpensive.

I’m working for a hotel chain, traveling all over the world. I fly from San Francisco to Dubai.

Mark and I have sex on a kitchen counter. I give him a blowjob.

I know he’s cheating on me. I confront him about the fact that he’s dating men on the side.

I’m working in a big office building in San Francisco. There are lots of agencies that work in this building. I’m navigating through a huge space of blue-lit cubicles.

I’m looking at Andrea’s stereo. Andrea and Susan are going to separate. Susan is pregnant again but they aren’t happy. I say that’s too bad, but I am secretly relieved because it validates my feelings that people aren’t very happy when they have kids.

In my dream I think "Hey this is just like when I’m dreaming and I’m navigating through spaces."

Joe C. wants to have a drink at 8pm. I want to tell him it’s too late. But I’ve lost my Treo and I can’t text him back.

Tanya goes on a crash diet and I tell her it’s not healthy. But she looks good and I’m jealous.

Jonathan introduces me to Mehera. She looks very familiar and I tell her so.

Someone (a monster?) is supposed to be painting and gets blue paint all over the wall. It colors all the books blue.

There is a black cat in the conference room, and I think also a kitten. The cat is angry.

I hear a round of applause. Marcelo has gotten an award.