Dead? Who Me? Or Treble?

*Name To Be Added later

I woke up dead this morning.

I didn’t realize it immediately, but sherlocked it after ignoring the question: How can you wake up if you're dead? Just an oxymoron I decided as I concentrated on the ensuing scenes that unfolded in a surreal setting.

I found myself (note: unsure if I was corporeal or spiritual at that precise moment) in a room of sorts – three walls with an open end where a fourth wall should’ve been. There was no ceiling – blue skies dotted with thin clouds. If I was standing on a tiled or wooden floor, I couldn’t tell for the fluffy clouds that covered my feet.

I wasn’t alone. Although I couldn’t see anyone, I heard voices – mainly weeping and wailing ones, and some angry tirades sprinkled in. The weepers just couldn't believe they were HERE! The whiners had expected more convenient conveniences. The mad ones were demanding to see a supervisor or their own attorney.

"Welcome to Waystation No. 9."

The voice was melodic as I strained to add a face to the voice.

"I’m Sister Clodagh, your intermediary during your stay."

Having been a movie buff most of my time spent on planet Earth, I recognized the name from the 1947 flick, "Black Narcissus." The voice, I decided, belonged to Deborah Kerr, who had passed away in October 2007 – almost five years ago.

"What-What am I doing here?" I inquired.

"Well, first of all, you’re dead," the sister replied bluntly.

"And second of all?"

"There seems to be some lingering issues from your material world stay that, once clearly resolved, will determine if you spend eternity in Heaven or Hell."

"Unresolved issues?"

"I see from your dossier … and, may I add it’s a fat one … that you have a split personality – an Elbert and a Treble. Perhaps the unresolved issues pertain to you having lived two lives while in the material world."

"Hey, I just write a blog entitled elbertreble! And, I cannot help it if Elbert spelled backwards is Treble. Anyhow, that shouldn’t mean my personality is split!"

"Now, now. Please don’t raise your voice …"

"Sorry."

"Sorry."

"Is there an echo up here … in Waystation No. 9? I thought I heard myself repeat myself. You know, two sorrys instead of just one," I asked without repeating myself.

"I don’t think it was an echo. There are two of you here."

For the first time, instead of peering at my alter ego in the mirror, I was face to face with myself. Suddenly, we were corporeal and not spiritual. "Is that you Treble?"

"It’s me, Elbert. Just let me say … I can’t believe you’re dead!"

"Me! Dead!" I screamed. "Let me clue you in … If I’m dead, so are you!"

"Now, now," Sister Clodagh said. "Let’s be civil."

I heard papers being shuffled. Finally Sister Clodagh, who had taken on the image I had imagined from "Black Narcissus," said, "Let’s see. One unresolved issue is that one of you still harbors vivid images of a naked Mickey Rourke and Carrie Otis in the movie, 'Wild Orchid'."

"Elbert!" Treble spat. Uncontrollably, I conjured up an image of Carrie Otis.

"And one of you has failed to atone for the rash behavior that led losing a job."

"Treble!" I said without hesitation, recalling that the S.O.B. had always been the angry one. Always the one who acted without thinking about the consequences.

"And one of you has yet to absolve the other for lying to a sweet young lady named Juanita. Something about an unpaid loan."

"Elbert!" Treble said.

"No, I think that was you, Treble," I countered.

"There are at least ten more pages of aforementioned issues …"

"It was all Treble!" I offered in hopes of Treble coming clean and we could move on. But, he remained mum, which was unlike the S.O.B.

"I will forward your dossier to the High Council for a decision …"

"Will I, we need a lawyer?" I inquired.

"Don’t be silly. There are no lawyers in Heaven. They’re all in Hell with the politicians and telemarketers."

"What kind of a decision?" Treble asked.

"Well, in my learned opinion, one of you will go to Hell, the other one to Heaven," Sister Clodagh said. "In the meantime, Elbert you will serve as an intermediary here on Waystation No. 9. We could use some help. It’s been a constant flow of souls who have issues to be settled."

"What about me?" Treble asked haughtily.

"You’ll be held in limbo, so to speak, until the High Council’s rules."

Treble looked at me and said, "Kinda ironic, huh. You possess a split personality, so we get split up to spend an eternity in Heaven or Hell!

"Yeah. Ironic," I said, picturing Treble boarding the ferry for his ill-fated ride with boatman Charon across the Styx to Hades while I was being cordially greeted by Saint Peter at the Pearly Gates.