Sigourney Dream Weaver

Sigourney Weaver walks around downtown Los Angeles asking people where the Staples is. People avoid her because they can’t recognize her with a mask and sunglasses on. All they see is a tall woman in a fire hydrant red jumpsuit and patent leather stilettos bolting towards them with a mask on that reads “Actors do it better!” She had purchased this mask while browsing Etsy on ketamine, at Ellen Barkin’s vineyard in San Luis Obispo.  Ellen Barkin’s wine is called “Bashful but Barkin” and is the only non-organic pink wine on the market that has upwards of 20 grams of refined sugar in each sip guaranteed. Barkin is said to say “Every time someone sips my wine no matter where they are, I sense it and it makes me giggle.” 

Sigourney is getting angry because people keep guiding her towards the Staples Center.  This is the 5th time since 9 am she has walked in the blistering, drought heat to the Staples Center only to throw her hands in the air and shout “No, not the Staples CENTER! JUST STAPLES! Jeez, Louise!” Alas, she continues approaching every person within a mile radius of her in hopes of finding the office supply chain.  It doesn’t help that she keeps starting her query with “I’m asking you nicely and calmly…” which is making the passerby’s hustle even faster away from her.  

She has been looking for Staples all morning because the night before she had had a dream that her guardian angel was carrying a shiny binder that was filled with all of the answers to the universe. When Sigourney woke up next to Harrison Ford in a room at the Cecil Hotel, she knew she needed to find the binder from her dream. “Harrison, do you know where Staples is?” Sigourney asked a fast asleep Harrison Ford. She gave up and slammed her head back on her dirty pillow that leaked pee out one side. The room smelled like sour ass and throw up that had been eaten and thrown up again.  She knew the sheets would leave her body reeking for weeks, yet it was the only place Harrison and her could comfortably carry on their raunchy affair after being caught by each of their spouses more than 100 times. 

The night before they had had sex every 5 minutes from 7- 10 pm until Harrison started yammering about being a pilot. Sigourney immediately got turned off. “If you’re not a bird, you shouldn’t be flying.” She scolded, before turning off the light, insanely furious. Sigourney didn’t know what she meant, all she knew was that she wanted Harrison to feel how she was feeling: concerned and edgy. Harrison never knew if Sigourney was joking or not so he simply grinned in post coital ignorance and fell immediately into a deep sleep despite someone screaming bloody murder right outside their door. 

Harrison and Sigourney had met at Pacific Dining Car in the 70s where they laughed for hours and copulated after realizing they both ordered a side of Caesar salad. “Coincidences like that don’t show up out of nowhere, we were meant to sleep together.” Harrison said into Sigourney’s bosom that night. And so began their highly sexual love affair that spans over five decades. They were both endlessly proud of their ability to get wet for each other over the ages, but lately something was stale that neither of them could really name.  Had their flame finally burned out or was it because they were carrying on sleeping together at one of the most infamously dangerous, haunted and filthy hotels in Los Angeles?  

To Harrison- a hotel was a hotel and he preferred small rooms because “the walls are nice and close.” Sigourney never thought twice about the history of the hotel. There was something romantic about it in a Mapplethorpe/ Patti Smith way. After all her successes and financial abundance, Sigourney felt her rawest and most feminine self in dirty spaces not for the faint of heart. She didn’t know if it was her bad ass roles that had shaped her or if it was her that had shaped her strong, no shit taking roles. Either way, the lines always blurred. Life was a set, each moment new blocking for a scene that would hopefully lead to a narrative that would equally devastate and empower its audience and a creepy hotel felt like fertile ground for drama. 

Plus when Harrison and her made love she felt like she was everywhere! Timbuktu! The Bermuda Triangle! Ancient Egypt! Humping Harrison Ford felt like time travel to Sigourney and she always felt a bit more cultured and worldly afterwards. Stink murder hotel be damned, Harrison’s dick was a passport to new exciting places. “Think if the show Ancient Aliens was fornication”, thats how Sigourney described their sex world to her children.

After walking for seven hours, in the dry LA, apocalyptic heat of 2021, Sigourney is dizzy and pops into the Apple Store and asks if they have any “Bashful but Barkin” wine. “It’s a great alternative to champagne, its crisp and sweet.” The  Apple Store employee immediately raises a thermometer to her forehead and takes her temperature. It reads “108”. The apple clerk is shaken and shows  Sigourney the results. Sigourney studies it. “I’m sorry, but 108 dollars? They’re like $6.99 for 6 bottles at Vons!” A clear tarp is thrown over Sigourney. She is rolled up into a ball and catapulted into the street by the apple store employees, hitting the pavement hard. 

“Apple really is ruining our lives!” Sigourney chuckles inside her plastic tarp bundle. She laughs more until she feels something sharp in her chest. Glancing down, Sigourney realizes her stiletto heel has stabbed her.  “Knock, Knock.” She’d know that low, sex pot voice any where. She looks up and sees Ellen Barkin standing above her with a glass of her pink wine. “Someone thirsty?” Sigourney smiles through the plastic. Then Harrison appears next to Ellen. “You know what goes so well with pink wine? A side Caesar salad.” He holds out a small Caesar that he had hidden behind his back. “Is this Heaven?” Sigourney asks. “Yes, this is what heaven is.” Harrison Ford and Ellen Barkin say in unison. Then, Ellen starts barking. Sigourney stares as she barks like a dog. This feels out of character. Somethings wrong.

Barkin’s barks morph into someone screaming in the next room, Sigourney wakes up. She is in bed at the Cecil Hotel. Her forehead is clammy. Harrison Ford sits in their tiny room on a stool across from her in his boxers reading US weekly. “Good Morning, Grumpy.”  Sigourney looks around dazed. Her eyes land on a small bag from STAPLES with a binder inside. She gets up and inspects the binder. Its the one that her guardian angel was carrying. “When did you get this?” Sigourney asks. “I strolled around earlier this morning and saw it at STAPLES, it made me think of you.” Harrison answers, while staring at picture of Melissa Joan Hart, half asleep. “Did I tell you about my dream, the one with the angel?” Sigourney asks softly. “No, but I have a feeling you’re about to.” Harrison teases.  “I think we need to f somewhere else.” Sigourney concludes.