“In my childhood I was a fervent worshiper of the tiger… Childhood passed away, and the tigers and my passion for them grew old, but still they are in my dreams. At that submerged or chaotic level they keep prevailing. And so, as I sleep, some dream beguiles me, and suddenly I know I am dreaming. Then I think: This is a dream, a pure diversion of my will; and now that I have unlimited power, I am going to cause a tiger.
“Oh, incompetence! Never can my dreams engender the wild beast I long for. The tiger indeed appears, but stuffed or flimsy, or with impure variations of shape, or of an implausible size or all too fleeting, or with a touch of the dog or the bird.”
From Dreamtigers, Jorge Luis Borges, translated by Mildred Boyer and Harold Morland, 1964; 2011, University of Texas Press, Austin, p. 24