I had this dream last night that my scalp was really itchy, and when I scratched it this big flaky piece came off in my hand. I was quite dismayed, but imagine my surprise when I went to a mirror and started to pull out these big pieces of what I thought was skin, only to discover that they were in fact some very old and fragile pages from a poetry book. Some fell apart as soon as I touched them, but the ones that remained intact were full of beautiful classic poems (the only one I can recall is one by Yeats).
So I started to get quite concerned about what else could be lurking in the curly depths of my scalp, and started rooting around in there with the help of a mirror and a flashlight. And there, buried far beneath the tangled hair, munching quite happily on a small piece of leaf, was a little red snail.
I just dare you to try to interpret this.