“Isn't there?” Dill gestured at his body. “It looks as though that's exactly what I can do.” He gripped his left arm with his right hand, squeezed and pulled. A lump of play-dough the size of his fist came away and his arm readjusted to smooth the hollow. He held up the lump. “Is this me?” He dropped it on the floor where it immediately attracted hair from a non-existent dog as fast as iron filings on a magnet. “No, it is not. I am the life-force, the energy, the powerhouse of mind controlling the matter.” He retrieved the lump and pressed it into his body. It was absorbed, filtered, distributed to the whole. A little pile of dog hair drifted to the floor where a black and white Jack Russell appeared to collect them.
“Jester!” Frederick held out his hand to the dog. “Where have you been, boy?” He began fussing the animal as he looked back at Dill. “That's not what I meant and you know it. You're the spirit of a mortal whatever that form takes. It doesn't matter about your physical or metaphysical housing. You're mortal. You'd never be allowed to stay in Faery no matter what skin you were wearing.”
“But I can be whatever I want here, can't I? What's to stop me leaving my golem body and becoming a ghost?”
Frederick shrugged. “Because you're not a ghost. I couldn't become a golem any more than Harold could become an elf.”
“A mummy, then, like Amanda, or a ghost in the machine like Sam.”
“It's all nature, lad. There's bugger all you can do to change it.”