Dragons. And Dimensions

As you will now be aware, Dragons are a little on the large size. You must be wondering how it works. How does Kevin fit in an apartment the size of a shoebox. In fact, how does Kevin fit into any space smaller than he?

It’s really quite simple. If you understand quantum physics. Kevin simply adjusts his weight to the size/space of a given area. Yet still retains his mass. In short, he’s no less big when mooching around my home than he is when he’s out flying. Are you following. Or falling?

Try this: he just fits better. Than he should.

Kevins’ … mass … is a constant. He can’t actually shed any of it on command. Dragons are no more privy to miracle weight loss solutions than you or I. No matter where he is or how much space there is – he cannot amend his original … bulk. Now, if you’d been paying attention in Physics classes, you’d know this. But you weren’t paying attention. Were you.

Imagine you’re on the Moon. Your mass … your shape … wouldn’t change. But your weight would. Pure math.

Here’s a simple abridgement … Kevins’ ethereal and fourth dimensional. Therefore he has the ability to alter his weight – and that of things around him. He fine-tunes. He tweaks. And … he mingles. Combine this with his transcending abilities and Bingo! Simple! And of course he does a little mind-altering.

Mine.

Everything about Kevin looks normal. The thing is, once your mind has accepted the concept that he’s real, everything else is easy. Admittedly it’s a whole different story when you haven’t accepted it. I spent many a day trying to convince myself that my Iguana was big boned. Had a hormonal growth problem. That maybe the wingy bits weren’t really wings, maybe they were just weird growths in the shape of wings. That kind of thing. And I was happier in my denial.

The day I admitted to myself that he was possibly a Dragon wasn’t an easy one. His tail had stopped looking like an Iguana tail for one. It was longer and looked altogether too Dragony .... And his colour was all wrong, plus he was far too glittery. But by far the hardest thing to ignore was the fire that kept dribbling from his mouth.

After he’s melted his way through yet another fire-retardant cage I finally came to the conclusion that either my Iguana had a really weird ailment or I hadn’t bought an Iguana. It was a bit like the day you realise that Father Christmas doesn’t exist. Only in reverse.

And the sinking feeling was still there.

Kevin shouldn’t fit. Into anything that’s smaller than he is. You’ve all heard “you’ll never fit a quart into a pint pot”. By that token, Kevin should not be able to live with me. His dimensions exceed that of my apartment. My home is roughly 60m2 – in total. That’s removing all the walls and doors. Kevin’s roughly in the region of bigger than that.

For my part, I’m ecstatic at the concept that he shouldn’t be able to enter my apartment. That would mean I’m Dragon-less. Unfortunately, despite the Laws of Physics, I’m not. But I enjoy the theory side of Kevin. In fact – I enjoy it an awful lot. So much so that it’s now my favourite daydream. And sometimes, if you’re really really lucky – dreams can come true.

And if not - well there’s always hope, right?

Kevin fits. Regrettable but true. He moves around the apartment as though he can. He is somehow appropriately fitting according to the dimensions within which he exists. It doesn’t matter that I’m know he should demolish the building every time he tries to enter it. He doesn’t. In fairness, this is one of his more … positive points. I know it’s not quite the same as a distinguishing feature of his personality but still.

He needs all the help he can get.

~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s entirely possible that you’re still trying to work the dimensions thingy out. My advice is: don’t waste your time. If you actually saw Kevin, sprawled all over his rocking chair you still wouldn’t figure it out. The problem is this: your mind knows it’s impossible. He just shouldn’t – fit. But your mind and the realms of impossibility won’t match up.

And that, my friends … is magic.