I dreamt of a masturbation machine. It was low to the ground with two shiny handles, presumably to support a user crouching over it. In the middle of an elaborate structure, which looked like the housing for a complex mechanism, there was the only moving part: the torso, arms, and head of a miniature black man dressed like a rock star. The head was the size of a tennis ball. His hair was gray in places. The hair appeared to be quite soft to the touch. The man moved mainly backward and forward, but he also swayed sideways, as though he was dancing. The movement was obviously mechanical, but it was quite elaborate, too. There was something mesmerizing about it. The closer I came to the contraption, the more I was convinced that it was for women only, but I still could not fathom exactly how it would work.