Last night I dreamed every head of hair had a voice

I'm cutting this woman's hair and the hair itself starts talking to me — not her, just the strands, telling me everything she never said out loud. I keep clipping and the voice keeps going, telling me about her sister, her mortgage, the way she wants to be loved. When I finish, the hair goes quiet and she pays me in seashells and I don't think twice about it. Woke up wishing my scissors worked like that in real life.