Spaghetti

I was lying there. On a stainless steel counter. I don't usually see myself in dreams, but there I was. And then a woman walked in. She was quite stunning really. A round face with long hair that looked like it would be silky to the touch. Ruby lips and sapphire eyes. Sapphires like the one adorning her golden crown. Royalty, I assumed. She didn't speak, but walked toward me. And though she had a gentle presence, what she was holding in her hand sent a shiver through my body. Her slender fingers were grasping a pair of long, brilliantly silver scissors. She walked closer and lifted my head up. I was frozen, like a doll would be. And she started cutting off my brown hair. The locks fell into a china bowl I didn't even realize was there. And a man walked in. I didn't recognise him at first, but after a moment I remembered the face. He walked over to a stove next to the counter I was on. The princess handed him the china bowl full of hair, long pink gown trailing behind her. The man boiled water. The hair was tossed into the bubbling liquid. Some of this and some of that, and it was done. Gordon Ramsay had turned my hair into spaghetti. (It was actually a really scary dream...)