King Arthur’s people were not aware that they were indecent and I had presence of mind enough not to mention it.

They were so troubled about my enchanted clothes that they were mightily relieved, at last, when old Merlin swept the difficulty away for them with a common-sense hint. He asked them why they were so dull—why didn’t it occur to them to strip me. In half a minute I was as naked as a pair of tongs! And dear, dear, to think of it: I was the only embarrassed person there. Everybody discussed me; and did it as unconcernedly as if I had been a cabbage. Queen Guenever was as naively interested as the rest, and said she had never seen anybody with legs just like mine before. It was the only compliment I got—if it was a compliment.

Finally I was carried off in one direction, and my perilous clothes in another. I was shoved into a dark and narrow cell in a dungeon, with some scant remnants for dinner, some moldy straw for a bed, and no end of rats for company.

From “A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court” by Mark Twain

Mark Twain is one of the greatest humorists and writers.  He shows some similarity to Miguel de Cervantes when he wrote “Don Quixote.” Both books are filled with passages that will keep the reader in stitches of laughter. One of my friends and readers commented that she could not stop laughing when she read my novel, “The Stranger’s Enigma.”  It was the best compliment I had. I tried to use humor in the novel to advance my agenda of moving the plot along and, at the same time, reveal what dreams teach us about ourselves.

Here is one scene. Dr. Daniel Brandon, the protagonist, has fallen in love with  Julie, a woman that he met in a dream.  He does not dream about her for a while, so he concludes that she is upset with him. He figures out the reason:  He has been mentally unfaithful to her because a prostitute almost seduced him in another dream. To beg forgiveness, he writes a poem and goes to the totem pole on Lake Shore Drive to perform a ceremony:

I go to Lincoln Park where a few revelers enjoy the morning.  Next to the totem pole, the grass still treasures the studded diamonds of dew. A fresh breeze from Lake Michigan rustles the dark-green foliage of blooming bushes and stern-looking oak trees. I take out a large thurible filled with incense attached to a long metal chain, which I bought in a religious shop. I light it and concentrate my thoughts on Julie. A small clear cloud of white smoke lifts up and hovers over me, its sweet fragrance wafting around and wrapping the place in a holy atmosphere. A young family gathers at the site—a Spanish-looking obese woman in a red T-shirt with a sentence in white that reads, “If you dare stare at my butt, I’ll kill you,” her husband and four children, one inside a baby carriage. The small group soon grows into a big crowd of curious onlookers. I am glad the policeman isn’t around. I wouldn’t know what to say to get away with this ceremony. The enthusiasm in my audience’s faces reminds me of those of the faithful who wait in Saint Peter’s Square in Rome for the announcement of a new pope.  I pull the note from the front pocket of my shirt. While unfolding the sheet of paper to read it, I watch a bunch of children jump around and initiate an Indian dance. With the palms of their hands, they repeatedly tap their mouths to interrupt their shrieks and imitate the characteristic Indian scream. I ignore their disruptive behavior because I know parents don’t give a damn about their children’s rowdiness. As soon as I swing the incense burner, an attack of coughing jolts me, and the smoke almost chokes me to death. After resting for a couple of minutes, I am able to recite the poem:

I lie dead, alive in my grave of life,

                Searching heaven for a sign of love …

The audience is kind and applauds my performance.  I pick up my paraphernalia to depart, and everyone looks at me with disappointment as if expecting some sort of speech.  Perhaps, my poem leaves a good impression on them; perhaps, Julie will appreciate my gesture and grant me her pardon.