Disclaimer: I’m sorry if I won’t be able to explain this clearly, English is not my 1st language lol
My father got bedridden for 14 years because of Parkinson’s Disease before he passed away. But before you feel bad for him, let me tell you one thing: he’s not a good person. He was a good provider before he got sick, yes, but he’s nowhere near being a good person (even after getting bedridden).
2 years before he passed away, he can no longer move from neck down. He can only move his eyes and speak faintly. That’s also when he started acting weird, like he’s not himself anymore. It’s like he’s not even sleeping anymore and keeps on saying random things. He just keeps calling for my mom, “Ma”, round the clock. And when my mom tends to him, he just stares at her. He also had this weird small hole on his arm that doesn’t bleed, but keeps on leaking what looks like thick water. My mom always cleans that hole but it doesn’t seem to heal.
A few months before he passed away, his appetite increased insanely. He was only eating non-solid food since he can’t really chew anymore, but he would ask to be fed all day long. A few minutes after eating, he would ask for food again and when we tell him that he just ate, he would say, “I have to eat, I’m starving.” Then one time, he said, “They told me I haven’t eaten yet.” My mom asked, “Who?” And my dad said, “Them” (he looks a little scared while looking at his bedside)
We got scared but also curious with his response. So one day, while my mom was feeding him, she jokingly said to my dad, “Why do you always feel hungry? Your appetite is big enough for five people” my father said, “Three”, then he continued, “There are three of us eating.”
I was like, “Holy sh*t, I wish I didn’t hear that.”
Back then, we lived in a small, studio-type apartment that has an attic. Me and my mom share the same bed, then my dad’s bed is around 3 feet away from ours, beside the stairs going to the attic which is my older brother’s room. My older brother was already working at that time, and only comes home on weekends. We haven’t told him about what my dad said that there are three of them eating because he’s a scaredy cat, lol. But then one night, he woke us up looking pale, sweating, and looked reaaaally scared. He said that he had a nightmare that seemed so real.
In his dream, he woke up at the attic and felt thirsty. He was about to climb down the stairs when he saw that my dad was with three other men. Three other men that looked EXACTLY like my father. One of them is just standing, one of them is bald and watching my mother while sleeping, while the other one has very long hair with a long tongue poking the hole on my dad’s arm. They all looked up to him, and that’s when he woke up.
Another side story: There are lots of other creepy things that happened after that, but here’s another one that marked.
This happened one afternoon, 2 weeks before my dad died. I’m just laying down on our bed while watching on my phone. My brother is beside me, asleep. I heard my dad calling for me, and I didn’t look at him instantly because he hasn’t done that in a long time. But when I looked at him, he was sitting on his bed. SITTING.ON.HIS.BED. His body has been stiff for years, he can’t even move his neck, and yet there he was, sitting upright and doesn’t even seem like he was struggling to keep his balance. He’s waving his arms while saying, “Come, come here. I’m about to get healed.” My mind was blown and I thought, hhhhell naaaah, there’s no way I’m going to come near you. I turned my back on him while thinking, “f*ck, what if I turn around and he’s even nearer?” I didn’t want to wake my brother because I know he would be even more scared than I was, so I waited like a minute then took a peek at him, and saw that he was crawling back to his bed.
I was scared sh*tless.