The magic on you is only magic and will vanish a soon as you are free, but the enchantment of error that you put on me I must wear forever in your ey… - Peter S. Beagle

We are not always what we seem, and hardly ever what we dream.

...but the enchantment of error that you put on me I must wear forever in your eyes.

But I'm always dreaming, even when I'm awake; it is never finished.

This creature is the Pooka. Pay no mind to the shape he wears, for he’s none of his own, and no soul either. Ware him ever, trust him never, but when the wind’s right he has his uses. Never forget that you will never know him. The Pooka’s mystery even to the Pooka.

It's like dinosaurs. We can put them back together perfectly, bone for bone, but we don't know what they smelled like, what kind of sounds they made, or how big they really looked standing in the grass under all those fossil fern trees. Even the sunlight must have been different, and the wind. What can bones tell you about a kind of wind that doesn't blow anymore?