The other night I had a semi fantastic dream that I became a cenobite. Why only semi fantastic? You’ll find out.

First, I solved the puzzle box (I think it was the one from Hellseeker), and I’m immediately escorted to out of this plane of reality. I’m greeted by a figure I’d seen in a dream years ago; a mostly naked, muscular man with his head wrapped in barbed wire, obscuring his face. He’s holding some huge knife and I’m informed that he will be doing my alterations.

"No offense, dude," I protest, "but can you even see? I’m not getting on the slab for this guy. I want a surgeon! Someone with skill"

Got my wish, Doctor Channard pops up and takes over. I was actually kind of giddy. Once again, I’m having one of those dreams where I can feel what happens, and I feel the scalpel go through the skin. Channard carefully cuts me open, from larynx to pelvic bone, and the whole time I’m just buzzing with excitement.

An assistant that looks kind of like the original version of Lex Luthor pops up and while I’m giggling about how squishy my liver is, and just pulls out some of my small intestine and starts chopping it up. All I say in response to this is “Dude! You can’t go reaching in there like that! I don’t know you!” but I break into laughter.

Well, having finished that, I’m put into a little room and given a needle and a spool of human hair. Some unnamed cenobite tells me I have stitch myself back up before my shift starts.

"Shift? What shift? There are shifts?"

"Yes, you’re the new waitress."

Of all the….

Thankfully I woke up before I had to wait tables.