This is a True Story.

San Juan del Sur, Nicaragua, 10 November 2025

I am contemplating the Pacific Ocean, golden sunlight shimmering on the surface.

Colorful small fishing boats, gently carried by the soft waves.

San Christobal's statue is looking out over this beautiful bay.

My mind is going backwards.

Spirit whispering 'a perfect place to die'.

Same spirit with whom I traded lives 11 years ago – 'your life against this horse's life'.

I accepted. 

El Jadida, Morocco, 20 May 2014

Do you believe in manifesting ?

I didn't at that time, being completely ignorant, stuck in the 3D – realm.

But that was about to change.

Looking over the Atlantic Ocean, after a night of partying at the Mazagan.

Racehorses all over the place with their jockeys, training.

I was spotting an Arabian stallion with a young rider on its back.

And I wished I had such an elegant and powerful beauty.

A few seconds later he was right in front of me, his childlike jockey insisting I ride him.

I hesitated.

A stallion, racehorse, nervous as hell, dancing to get away.

A small voice pushed me to take off my shoes – better not getting stuck into the rusty equipment in case he would throw me off and drag me through the sand.

I looked at this horse and respectfully asked 'Can I ride you ?'

I had never asked a horse for permission before – I guess it was divine guidance.

It was.

He instantly accepted, turning his head to look me straight into the eyes.

He carried me like no other living being could have, with such a tender care, adjusting his rhythm, making sure I wouldn't fall off.

I felt like the most powerful and protected woman on the planet.

It was cross – dimensional, unconditional love. That I didn't recognize.

Until 29 December 2023.

Azemmour, Morocco, 22 June 2014

I rented a small villa, as I was determined to rebuild my life after my divorce.

Morocco seemed a nice country at that time.

How I was wrong.

I didn't know that corruption and deceit are standard – it feels like swimming in an idyllic lagoon with bull sharks lurking beneath.

Anyway, a local 'friend', owning racehorses, called me this Saturday afternoon, inviting me to check out one of the best Moroccan racehorses he was about to buy that day.

I followed him to the beach.

The sun was setting and from afar we watched a horse limping from the waterline towards us, barely able to put weight on his left front leg.

Badie – the same stallion I had crossed paths with one month earlier.

I was shocked.

My friend outraged, insulting the seller in barely understandable 'derija'.

'Those idiots destroyed one of the finest horses', he said.

Referring to the vet being underway for sure, he replied that Badie was already sold to the butcher in Azemmour, scheduled to be killed on Monday morning.

Killed in the most brutal way – with a large knife.

'I am buying him' – my lips were moving, but it wasn't me who was talking.

'Your life against his life' – I accepted.

My friend turned to me visibly surprised – 'How are you going to handle this ?'

Good question.

I was on the beach, at nightfall, holding a critically injured horse, in a rural and

non – developed area, in a third – world country.

Sunday morning, the next day.

Meeting my friend for a coffee.

'We have to buy the papers and arrange transport for your horse', he said.

The 'papers' were held by the owner at the stables.

'Stables'.

A rotten structure in wood, dark with disgustingly filthy litter was all I could see.

And a skinny horse in pain, head down.

My friend arranged for me to have the official paperwork and transport for Badie.

Instantly.

And a few seconds later I found myself next to Badie in an open truck, destined to transport building material.

Arriving at my friend's stables.

Rudimentary but at least clean.

I called the vet.

The second and third one.

Nothing could be done. The tendon looked like a banana.

No surgery, no laser therapy could fix his leg.

'Let's proceed with an ancestral method', my friend suggested.

The only yet small chance for full recovery.

First option was burning the tendons of both front legs with an iron bar, coming straight out of the fire. Extremely painful. I refused, asking for another option.

My friend suggested 'le goudron', claiming it wouldn't leave any scars.

Perfect, I thought, as I presumed this procedure to be less painful.

It couldn't have been further from the truth.

'Le goudron' provoked 3rd degree burns and peeled off the skin.

My horse was crying in pain for 24 hours, his legs wrapped in acid.

And there was nothing I could do, except for sleeping in the box with Badie that night, trying to comfort him.

The burns provoke an infection that the body naturally heals, contracting the tendons to 'normal' length.

At least, when the horse's body has enough resistance.

Which was not the case for Badie.

Malnutrition and exhaustion caused the wounds to infect heavily after just a few days.

I was desperate.

Until I met a French guy on the racetracks in El Jadida.

Michel. A nice guy, owner of racehorses as well.

'Get your horse out of there and bring him to me, we will take care of him', his trainer said.

I instantly trusted him. Because of his soft and kind energy.

Rushing back to my friend's stables to walk Badie to Michel's stables, a mile further down the road.

Impossible.

My 'friend' turned out to be the enemy, hijacking my horse to squeeze more money out of me.

Sun Zi. Retreat and attack when the enemy is 'sleeping'.

That's what I did the next day, in full Ramadan period and 'afternoon nap' time.

I crawled in the dirt under the bushes right to Badie's stable, cut the ropes with a knife to release him and off we went, galloping and running as fast as we could.

Arriving at Michel's stables and taking a closer look at Badie's legs.

'These people are dogs', the trainer said. 'But don't worry, I will fix him'.

I was crying. I was exhausted and so was my horse.

Three weeks, lots of antibiotics, shots and special ointments later, Badie was on the road to recovery.

I felt so happy.

Until Michel announced he was selling his farm and horses.

Damn.

Where was I going to stable my horse in these nasty surroundings where almost nobody could be trusted ?

Universe responded. Spirit always leads the way. When you follow your intuition.

My Saoudi neighbor kindly offered help and 4 months later Badie was happily galloping again like nothing ever happened.

Jorf Lasfar, Morocco, 15 March 2015

Working as a site director in a small chemical plant for a Moroccan company.

Everything was going well, my friendly secretary bringing me coffee in my office every morning. Some jealous females around as usual, but nothing to worry about.

I thought.

Until one day my secretary came up the stairs, telling me that I should get my coffee myself. Surprised, I accepted, thinking she looked stressed out.

She was.

But not because of work.

Because of what she had seen other people doing – putting a few drops of venom into my coffee over the last few weeks. A dark and common 'craft' in Morocco.

The venom worked.

Skin yellow like a lemon, no intellectual capacity, memory loss, reduced eyesight and insane nightmares, every night.

Impossible to go to work.

I flew back to Belgium for almost a full year of recovery, leaving Badie in the hands of a Moroccan billionaire who had 14 other fullblood Arab horses.

Badie was safe, I thought.

Because Moroccan people with important financial means wouldn't rip me off, right ?

Wrong !

I was about to discover this in the most horrific way.

Ghent, Belgium, 2 January 2016

I had to work. But what was I going to do ?

I still hadn't fully recovered from the neuro – toxins.

Back to the basics. How to recover best when your physical health is in decline ?

Work out. Getting the chakras completely balanced again.

Spirit led me to a lady who offered me a range of clients in the maintenance industry. Manual work. And thus perfect 'work out'.

I set up a company, took over her clients and worked my ass off.

After only a few months, the company started to become successful.

Meanwhile Badie was in Morocco, doing fine.

I thought. I ignored my intuition, telling me something was off with my horse.

Ghent, Belgium, 3 April 2016

My intuition was screaming.

This time around I didn't ignore it and took a flight to Casablanca, Morocco.

Surprise visit at the stables of the Moroccan billionaire, run by his 22 – year old son.

Oussama, a little piece of shit.

Instead of spending the money I sent him on horse feed, he organized cocaine parties – with – hookers.

I spotted Badie. Unrecognizable. A shadow of what he used to be. Down to less than 350kg and barely able to stand on his feet.

Hijacked again. For more money, of course.

Enraged I drove to Oussama's father's factory in El Jadida, 'raiding' his office and ready to breaking closed doors.

His father was hiding under his desk, unable to look at me.

Unable to talk – too scared.

The police did absolutely nothing to assist me. A bunch of corrupt losers.

The next day I flew back to Belgium, contacted the best lawyer in the country and called some friends in Rabat, Morocco.

One of them suggested an equestrian club just outside of Rabat.

I called the owner of the club and promised a stack of cash if he was willing to rescue my horse – by force if need be. He accepted.

My lawyer sent a fax to the factory the same day – no reply.

I picked up my phone and called Oussama – 'If I have to come to Casablanca again, you're dead'. 

Two hours later my horse was loaded on the truck to freedom and intensive care.

I had the best Moroccan vets ready for Badie upon arrival in the club.

We were right on time.

Badie was already severely hypothermic due to starvation and wouldn't have lasted a few days more without intervention.

The vets worked around the clock for weeks.

I spent the rest of 2016 working solely to pay the insanely high vet bills but by the end of 2016, Badie was back into perfect mental and physical condition.

Oussama ended up in a mental health institute, due to an overdose of cocaine. Completely destroyed, for trying to destroy my horse.

Horses are sacred.

I say 'sacred' because they are the physical expression of the purest energy and thus highest vibration. Horses are energetically 'shielded'.

This is why negative intentions and thus negative energy are always returned to sender and manifest in the 3D – realm, sooner or later. Time is relative.

Matter does not exist. Remember Einstein's statements.

Scientific evidence shows that we are living in a multi – dimensional world.

11 dimensions – quantum entanglement.

I have seen and felt through dimensions, way beyond the 3D – realm and it changed me forever.

Extreme trauma.

The price to pay for extra – ordinary senses.

This is what we call 'spiritual awakening', or at least a part of it.

Unbearable trauma – it changes the energy flow within your body and opens 'dormant' energy points and gateways to other dimensions.

You can not achieve this trough meditation, nor yoga.

Trauma causes energetic chaos – when it is extreme, the 'system' seeks for ways to restore balance and goes beyond the physical reality.

That is where the extra – ordinary lies within reach. If you don't resist it.

Brussels, Belgium, 14 March 2017

'Badie is doing fine, happily trotting in the paddock', one of my vets told me over the phone.

Perfect.

Another call right after, this time coming from the owner of the club – 'Can I use your stallion for reproduction ? He's got excellent origins and is lot a worth of money.'

My breath stopped for a second. 'Here we go again' I thought.

'Time to get on a plane.'

With a lawyer.

I had to move my horse.

I was not willing to risk injuries after all we had been through.

My lawyer and I got on a plane and set Badie up for transport to a club in Essaouira, Morocco.

The driver of the truck looked at me – 'Are you sure ?'

I wasn't but a 1,500 miles drive to Belgium seemed really daunting.

'Let me give my friend a call', he said.

One hour later we arrived at Sidi Berni, the largest and luxurious stables I had ever seen. Situated just outside of Rabat and property of the Royal Moroccan family.

Heaven on earth.

That would turn into hell a few years later.

Sidi Berni, Morocco, 19 August 2021

I hadn't seen Badie in 18 months due to COVID – restrictions.

He looked wonderful and very happy to see me at last.

I had spent those 18 months on the phone with his grooms.

Every week I'd set up video calls, watching my horse being brushed, walking around between the gigantic paddocks and lush gardens, Badie looking at the screen of the phone and responding to my voice.

I was so grateful that he was doing fine.

That was all I ever wanted – Badie happy and in good health, even if most of the time I wasn't physically around.

Sidi Berni, Morocco, 23 October 2023

I had been away for just over 2 years, working and being stuck in Belgium.

Stuck, indeed.

To rescue Casim and Cashmere, cats that I'd hand – raised in 2016 and left in my brother and his wife's care, thinking they would have a nice and loving home.

How I was wrong again, being 'logical', not listening to my intuition at that time.

My mother brought Casim and Cashmere to me in June 2022, crying.

They were more dead than alive, literally.

I spent thousands of dollars on vet bills and more than a year in 'special care',

doing everything I could to get them back to health.

One of my friends arranged a loving forever home for Casim but Cashmere passed away.

My horse was not doing fine.

Something was off, but I couldn't pinpoint what it was.

Because after all, my weekly calls with his grooms all resulted in the same 2 questions and same answers – 'Badie is doing fine ?' 'Yes.'

'Nothing has changed ?' 'No.'

I had the vet checking out my horse.

'Veronica, you're too emotional, everything is fine with Badie.'

At that point I still wasn't listening to my own inner voice, being distracted with

all the 'noise' around me, coming from people that I had known for years

and considered trustworthy.

Spirit softly whispered 'Your horse will die before the end of this year.'

I couldn't believe it.

Sidi Berni, Morocco, 25 December 2023

Christmas lunch with friends.

Driving to the stables for my daily visit, this time around 5.30 pm, 'dinner time' for the horses.

I noticed a red bag with a label on it – cow feed.

I tasted the feed – cow feed indeed, sugary as hell.

I snatched off the label and questioned Abderrahman, Sidi Berni's accountant and a nice guy.

'Why does my horse get cow feed ?

'That's toxic for horses' I screamed.

Abderrahman nearly fell off his chair, unable to clarify, extremely embarrassed, but stating that the cow feed had been introduced in June 2022.

Sidi Berni, Morocco, 27 December 2023

Afternoon, waiting for Sidi Berni's director, Saad Bensalah.

Finally coming in and confronting him – 'Why does my horse get cow feed ?

Director's reply, yelling at me – 'Veronica, you're an idiot, that is special horse feed. The factory didn't change the label on the packaging.'

I verified in person at the factory in January 2024 – it was indeed special cow feed, destined to maintain cows and sheep.

Cheap feed – 4 times less expensive than horse feed – given to more than 150 horses in Sidi Berni, including mine, in my absence and without my knowing.

They betrayed me – all the people working in Sidi Berni to whom I had shown nothing but kindness, respect and generosity.

Sidi Berni, Morocco, 28 December 2023

A phone call at 1.25 am.

I was staying in the Amphitrite Palace, 5 miles away from Sidi Berni.

'Veronica, Badie has colic. It's bad, please come immediately.'

My heart stopped. I was thinking about spirit's words.

I rushed to the stables.

Called the vet. No answer. The guard called, this time Aarab, the vet, picked up.

'Give him 40ml of Calmagine.'

I did. Didn't work. Got Saad Bensalah out of his bed at 2.30 am. Other injections.

No result. Badie rolling in excruciating pain. I had never seen colic that severe.

It was not 'colic'. It was the direct effect of hind gut disease, provoked by the cow feed.

Sidi Berni, Morocco, 29 December 2023

2.30 am. Badie was still rolling in pain, exhausted. I was trying to keep him warm in this cold winter night.

In vain.

Aarab called his military colleague.

'Veronica, be prepared for the worst. Your horse will not make it through the night.'

I refused to believe it.

I begged Badie to hold on – after all we had conquered so many obstacles and spent so little time together.

3 am. Badie got up. Visibly less in pain. Walked right up to me and put his head in my hands. 'He's going to make it' – a glimpse of hope was finally there.

4.30 am. Badie was still walking around in the paddock.

6.10 am. I woke up in shock – I had dozed off in my car after nearly 36 hours of watch keeping.

Searched for my phone. Couldn't find it.

6.15 am. I didn't see Badie in the paddock.

Before I could ask the guard where my horse was, I got a 'Your horse has passed.'

I didn't cry. I felt nothing. I had lost everything.

My soulmate chose to die in the darkest corner of the paddock.

Badie decided to spare me the moment of his passing, that I would never have been able to survive if I had to watch him taking his final breath.

I drove back to the hotel.

Still felt nothing.

I couldn't accept we'd lost this battle.

Badie had suffocated in his own blood.

Rupture of the large intestine.

I had seen the swelling on his left side.

My eyes had seen it – my soul refused to acknowledge.

Spirit was right – he died before the end of the year.

When I arrived back in October, it was already too late. The sugar already made him completely 'acid', to the point of non – return.

My horse knew. Synchronicities had been shown to me, but I'd refused to see them.

Badie had been hiding the pain those last months. To keep our final moments happy.

The definition of true love.

I remember the last night I spent quietly sleeping next to my horse.

Every time he'd lay down, his head against mine, I could feel energy flowing between us – literally.

It almost felt like a warm 'current', going straight to my heart.

You're breathing as one, your hearts are beating as one.

Science calls this 'coherence'.

I call this 'divine alignment'.

Divine alignment opens portals and gateways.

It bridges dimensions and time.

It allows you to see with your third eye. At least, if you don't resist mentally.

I had resisted for a long time, unknowingly.

Until Badie died.

I felt an emptiness I was unable to overcome.

Looking for a sign that other dimensions really existed and that my horse was still next to me.

Sidi Berni, Morocco, 29 December 2023

7 pm. I was waiting for his groom to bring me Badie's equipment.

I stared into the night, at the entrance of the gates.

I could barely see anything – it was too dark.

Until silhouettes started to form.

Seven other horses, silently lined up, one with a rider on his back, looking at me.

I blinked. They were still there.

Nobody saw them, except me. Was I going crazy ?

Badie appeared right in front of me, a blue halo stepping towards me, looking right at me with he same sweet look in his eyes.

I was not going crazy.

I was able to look through other dimensions.

I felt instantly relieved. Badie was still with me.

True love is cross – dimensional. Because it is energy.

But why did I see those other seven horses ?

What was the message they were trying to bring me ?

I was going to find out soon.

By coincidence.

Or by 'divine guidance'.

Agadir, Morocco, 4 January 2024

On the beach, 40 feet above the ground, in an open watch station.

The freezing wind was blowing through.

'Perfect'. 'Excellent conditions for hypothermia.'

It crossed my mind that I wouldn't last for 15 minutes in the icy Atlantic Ocean.

I was heartbroken.

Not because of my horse's death.

But because of the lies.

The betrayal.

Badie's death was not an accident.

He had been a target.

We had been 'the' target.

Saad Bensalah had been poisoning my horse deliberately for more than a year.

Deliberately, to get me out of the way and preventing me from discovering the ongoing corruption, insurance fraud and theft in Sidi Berni.

I had understood that something was going on the moment I discovered the cow feed and when Sidi Berni's gates remained closed for me on 31 December 2023.

I sneaked in with the help of Hassan, Badie's groom.

I wanted to visit my horse's grave, hoping to see his blue aura again.

We walked to the grave site for horses.

I found an open area, no graves as such, but a 60 feet trench, freshly made.

Badie's head sticking partly out of the mud.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing.

The level of nastiness and disrespect.

'It must have been the wild animals who did this'.

Hassan nearly chocked in his words.

On our knees and with bare hands, we covered his head.

This is how I saw my soulmate for the last time.

It destroyed me.

Agadir, Morocco, 5 January 2024

5 am. Still on the beach, waiting to get hypothermic enough.

5.15 am. 'What are you doing here ?'

I was looking at a young boy, half unconscious.

Big brown eyes, kind and worried expression.

'Come on, let's get some hot tea and warm blankets.'

'It's not your time to die yet', he softly whispered.

How did he know ?

He picked me up, gave me a ride to his tiny house, covered me with blankets and nearly 5 minutes later I was asleep.

11 am. Badie's clear image woke me up in shock.

'Get up, you're a warrior. Have justice done for us.'

Nobody was around.

I got up like a robot on autopilot.

Went straight to the center of Agadir, had my hair and nails done, got properly dressed and here I was, all 'new' and ready for the biggest battle of my life.

A battle for justice.

Against the Royal Moroccan Palace, it would later turn out to be.

Tetouan, Morocco, 7 January 2024

I was waiting for Mustafa, my wise friend and counselor.

I didn't know what to do – confused and my head spinning in circles.

Mustafa couldn't give me proper advise this time around.

But Colonel Hicham, Gendarmerie Royale, could.

I called him. To my surprise he said 'Veronica, we know who you are.

Go to Rabat, investigate properly and when your file is complete, bring it to me.

We will handle this matter for you.'

Incredible. I had found an ally.

Who would be 'silenced' by the Royal Moroccan Palace a few weeks later.

Tetouan, Morocco, 8 January 2024

I had to move.

To Rabat.

But where to ?

I couldn't express the rage and grief I felt.

I kept in inside. I was not going to eliminate Saad Bensalah – I was going to do what was right and obtain justice in a proper way.

The energy turned against me.

I was slipping into a depression.

I called Hassan.

A friend, who deeply loved my horse.

'Can I stay with Boushra ? I have work to do.'

He immediately accepted.

Boushra, his lovely wife and one of the kindest people I have ever come across.

She saved my life.

With unwavering emotional support.

Watching over me like a mother, encouraging me every step of the way.

Bouznika, Morocco, 23 January

I needed an action plan.

And a fully documented case for the Gendarmerie Royale.

I started by calling Anneke, a Dutch vet, specializing in horses and horse feed.

Submitted all the data.

Including pictures of samples of cow feed, taken at the factory the day before.

My friend, a young female student, had 'tricked' the supplier into giving us all the information we needed to build a solid case against Sidi Berni.

Anneke's verdict came.

Her report clearly showed that Badie had been fed 2.18g of sugars per feed per kg of bodyweight for a period of 18 months. Enough sugars to kill any horse.

The absolute limit – for a short period of time – is 2g of sugars per feed per kg bodyweight. For a very short period.

The international safety standard being 1g.

When you check out horse feed of good quality, you will notice that when respecting the feed instructions, the total grams of sugars will stay well below the safety standard.

Only a very small part of sugars are absorbed in the fine intestines of horses.

When sugars arrive in the large intestine, lactic acid is produced because the sugars ferment. Lactic acid kills the micro flora in the hind gut, leading to an increasingly vicious circle of acidity and eventually an 'acid horse'.

Enough acidity for an extended period is deadly, causing severe ulceration or rupture of the hind gut, for example, mistaken for 'colic' by most vets.

Temara, Morocco, 5 February

Meeting with the President of the Court House.

A lady who acknowledged that what had happened to Badie was a crime.

5 minutes later I found myself sitting in front of one of the judges.

A fake smile on his face.

'We will take care of this case'.

He did. The case got canceled 10 days later. Erased.

Little did I know that any case against a Royal Moroccan Institution or a member of the Royal Moroccan Family is automatically canceled and reported to the Palace.

Morocco – a dictature presenting itself as a 'democracy'.

A lousy dictature without backbone, run by Hammouchi – scared of criticism.

Rabat, Morocco, 4 March 2024

I had to do something.

I was going to obtain justice, at any cost.

Not only for Badie but for the other horses being killed the same horrific way.

Presenting themselves to me at nightfall, the day Badie passed away.

At this point I was still believing that Moulay Abdallah ben Ali Alaoui – president of the Royal Moroccan Federation for Equestrian Sports and manager of Sidi Berni – was innocent, not knowing what Saad Bensalah was doing behind his back.

I was wrong again. His royal title doesn't stand for nobility and honor.

At the contrary – little did I know I was going to fight the Devil in person.

I was sitting in the taxi, on my way to the Royal Moroccan Federation for Equestrian Sports.

Ready to hand over the file to the president.

'He will set this straight immediately' – I was very hopeful.

The prince knew me in person.

I had since 2019 a proven track record in Morocco as an exceptional 'horse whisperer' and project manager.

The guards at the gate refused to let me come in.

'What the hell is going on ?' I asked, stunned.

No reply.

I left and had the file delivered by FedEx the next day.

Rabat, Morocco, 5 March

The prince received the file in the morning.

For a fact. In the afternoon Sidi Berni's vet called me, panicking.

'We are all being called into the president's office – do I have to go ?'

I confirmed.

'Tell the truth, Aarab. That is your duty.'

4 weeks later the cow feed was eliminated from the horses' menu in Sidi Berni.

But the prince refused to see me.

Tetouan, Morocco, 27 March 2024

I was sitting in my lawyer's office.

'I will request an audience with the prince.'

It crossed my mind that the prince wasn't innocent.

Because why else would he hide from me ?

The prince knew perfectly well what was going on and participated all along.

His Majesty's brother couldn't care less. Golf being his 'thing'.

The Kingdom funds the Royal Moroccan Federation for Equestrian Sports.

His Majesty didn't know the truth – and will not know, until coming across this essay.

Naples, Italy, 29 March 2024

1 am. I had just arrived at Naples Airport and was looking for a cab.

Two guys came to say hello and offer taxi services.

I was tired and starving.

But those two guys were so cool, driving me around in Naples down – town in the middle of the night, bringing me delicious coffee and bagels.

3 am. Time to look for the marina where the yacht was waiting for me.

I had been called in as a captain for a 70 feet sailing yacht, owned by a Swiss guy.

4 am. Finally arriving at the marina.

I was looking at this beautiful yacht and spirit whispered again.

'It's a hot mess, this boat'.

Damn !

Naples, Italy, 30 March 2024

Nightlife is in the hands of the Camorra.

Not for a minute I felt in danger – at the contrary, those guys felt like angels.

But in reality, they were hard – core criminals.

I checked out the yacht. It was a complete mess, indeed.

Open wiring everywhere, the electricity panels filled with stickers.

Air – conditioning dirty as hell, the water in the tanks giving off a 'legionella – like' smell.

I started working.

As fast as I could, to get this boat in decent shape and ready for sailing.

The owner on my heels, pressing me with ridiculously short deadlines and super – tight budgets.

A nightmare. What in the world did I get myself into ? 

Naples, Italy, 1 April 2024

I struggled with the electrics. The batteries seemed 'off'.

The bow – thruster had been 'dabbled' with by some crazy would – be mechanic and I had to get out of this marina the next day.

I called Marcellina marina – 'I'm coming in tomorrow morning. Prepare the dinghy for assistance with maneuvering, in case the bow – thruster is failing'.

'We don't have a dinghy', she replied.

Sh*t !

I gathered 4 of the best electricians and mechanics for a 30 – minutes drive to the next harbor. It was a hell of a ride.

The batteries' voltage were reading 32 – ideal conditions for fire on board !

But Universe brought us to port without fire – I left this floating 'liability' the next day.

Naples, Italy, 5 April 2024

I needed a break.

Far away from the world.

Pescasserolli. In the middle of nowhere. Splendid nature.

An idyllic small town in the Abruzzo and home to bears and wolves.

I love wolves.

And I absolutely wanted to meet them up – close.

Universe was going to grant my wish.

But not in Italy. In Spain.

Marina Smir, Morocco, 23 June 2024

7 pm. I had just arrived from Barcelona, after a week's work on a motor yacht.

The taxi driver missed the exit of the high – way and I found myself in a small hotel just outside of Tetouan.

No guests, except me and His Majesty's bodyguards.

A 'coincidence'.

11 pm. One of my friends of the 'secret' police called me.

'Where are you ?' I could hear the tension in his voice.

'You know where I am', I replied.

'Come to the office in Tetouan tomorrow morning.'

Tetouan, Morocco, 24 June 2024

10 am. At the police station. My friend was walking in, a big smile on his face.

'We have finally found a representative of the Royal Moroccan Federation of Equestrian Sports, someone with whom you can discuss the issues regarding your horse.'

I was amazed. And so pleased. My hard work and persistence was finally going to pay off !

After hours of waiting, filling out paperwork, signing papers in Arab that my friend presented me, I finally got news from 'the other side'.

'Veronica, you have to leave the country immediately.'

The head of the local police was looking at me, his face white as snow.

'What the hell is going on ?'

I was perplexed.

'No time to talk. I will give you 3 men. Just go, your life is in danger.'

And off we went.

Back to the hotel, grabbing some clothes as fast as I could.

50 minutes later I found myself on the beach in Ceuta, Spain.

Totally confused, with 600 dollars in my pocket. Not speaking one word of Spanish.

My business and my life totally cut off. Like nothing ever had existed.

What was I going to do now ?

Starve to death for sure, I wasn't going to last very long with 600 bucks.

I had to find a way to stay alive until I delivered the truth to His Majesty.

Ceuta, 25 June 2024

Hotel Las Murallas.

I was exhausted.

But preparing a message to be posted on YouTube, addressed to His Majesty directly.

Hoping he would find it.

It was the only channel I could think of.

I delivered.

After trying a hundred times without crying.

In vain.

I did cry.

But I got the message out.

Ceuta, 25 July 2024

I was still alive and doing surprisingly well.

After spending weeks sleeping on the beach and having kind people inviting me for beach parties – with – excellent food, every time I hadn't eaten in a few days.

Universe was with me. Every step of the way. My faith became unwavering.

I went into full warrior mode.

Nothing was going to stop me.

As long as I was breathing, I still had a chance.

Amsterdam, The Netherlands, 31 July 2024

2 am. The owner of the 'Blue Lagoon', a 66 feet motor yacht was waiting for me at the airport.

He welcomed me with a box of chocolates.

Again, my intuition told me something wasn't right.

It wasn't, but I was prepared this time around.

The owner invited for dinner the next day.

And casually mentioned that he was taking medication for schizophrenia.

Wonderful.

And I was supposed to take this guy all the way to Portugal.

Through the traitorous North Sea. Hell no !

Torremolinos, Spain, 15 August 2024

After a violent confrontation with the schizophrenic patient on the 'Blue Lagoon', I called it quits and flew back to Malaga.

My intuition was leading me back to Ceuta.

It would save my life a few months later.

A second time around.

I spotted a Spanish stallion with a silver – white coat.

He was looking so sad, visibly suffering from laminitis.

I checked his feed – 'high sugar' cheap feed.

In 'professional' stables.

I called in Badie for assistance and protection.

The Spanish stallion started dancing around, out of the blue.

Algeciras, Spain, 20 August 2024

I had been kindly invited for dinner in his home.

Carlos. A construction worker. And a complete stranger.

His energy was strong and protective.

I wasn't looking anymore at people's faces.

Nor was I listening to what they had to say.

I was evaluating their energy, systematically.

That is the only way to go, if you want to avoid low vibrational entities.

'I've been in prison for 20 years', he said. 'I got out a few months ago.'

'Armed robbery.' 'But I have evolved', he said. I believed him.

Ceuta, Spain, 14 September 2024

I was staring at the Mediterranean.

The sun was shining bright above 'La Ribeira', Ceuta's most beautiful beach.

My clients in Marina Smir were calling me. 'Captain, where are you – we need you !'

I still couldn't enter Morocco.

Everything blocked, borders included.

Despite my call with HE André Azoulay, His Majesty's counselor, several weeks earlier.

The only thing he had been able to accomplish, is getting me off Morocco's list of 'dangerous, searched – for, criminals'.

Indeed. I'd been listed as a 'criminal, who had killed all the horses in Sidi Berni'.

Moulay Abdallah ben Ali Alaoui had 'flipped the script' on me.

The prince was afraid of me.

Afraid that His Majesty would be informed about his criminal activities.

And the systematical 'elimination' of the horses, for insurance fraud purposes.

Only the Devil has limitless cruelty – the same goes for the prince.

And for the whole staff in Sidi Berni, confronted daily with colic, right after introduction of the cow feed.

How evil must one be to continue feeding deadly toxins to defenseless horses ?

The prince has an interesting reputation – a failed businessman without any morals, nor ethical standards.

The president of the Royal Moroccan Federation for Equestrian Sports.

His lifestyle fully 'sponsored' by His Majesty.

Moroccan Border with Ceuta, 23 October 2024

I was in the office of border control, Moroccan territory.

Being 'detained' and forbidden to enter the kingdom.

'Veronica, what did you do ?'

'We can't let you in, but we don't know why.'

The policer officer looked at me, friendly yet intrigued.

'There is nothing in the system.'

I explained what had happened.

He responded – 'You have been expulsed for knowing the truth.'

I went back to Ceuta.

Ceuta, Spain, 24 December 2024

9 am. I was sitting on the terrace of Luis' lovely home, built on the cliffs of the 'Playa del Sarchal'.

Wondering what I could do to inform His Majesty about this ongoing injustice.

I had done everything I could.

I had informed in detail the Royal Ministry.

His Majesty's first counselor.

His Majesty's brother.

Majidi – His Majesty's private secretary.

Hicham Naciri – His Majesty's lawyer.

They all refused to assist me, not willing to get 'mixed up' into the Royal Family's affairs.

Ceuta, Spain 25 December 2024

4 am. I was half asleep.

A soft nose touched my face.

Badie – he was still with me.

9 am. I prepared mountain gear and left Luis' home.

I needed space and time alone to align with Source.

A few hours later my 'base camp' was ready – in a remote part up the hills, between high trees and dense bushes, completely 'invisible' for outsiders and next to a military zone.

Ceuta, Spain 1 January

2 am. Deep and loud growling woke me up.

I froze for a fraction of second – 'What animal is this ?'

'Dog – fox – lynx – bear ?'

It was a wolf !

Universe had granted my wish !

I was searching for my flashlight while talking to the wolf, 10 feet away, hiding in the bushes.

'Are you injured, sweety ?' He stopped growling at me.

I figured he must have been injured as I'd heard gun shots the night before.

I could hardly see anything, except for his eyes and his rounded ears.

I was so grateful for the brown wolf. He was way larger than most wolves.

Was Badie sending me this apex – predator to protect me ?

Because after all I was in a remote area, far away from civilization.

The wolf kept coming back almost every night.

The foxes did too.

Playing with my shoes and softly nibbling my fingers to wake me up, asking for food.

The foxes would come close to me, almost touching my face with their noses, looking straight at me, their almond shaped brown eyes expressing nothing but curiosity and kindness.

I felt loved and protected by the Universe itself.

Ceuta, Spain, 1 March 2025

The rain was pouring, as it always does in March.

My base camp wouldn't last long.

Nabil, manager of Hostal 'Vista Al Mar', invited me in.

'Can you run the hotel together with me ?'

'I'd like some time off.'

I accepted and it literally saved me from hunger and illness.

A few weeks later I would be leaving Ceuta, heading towards Latin America.

100NM offshore Venezuela, 22 May 2025

2 am. We were traveling to Shelter Bay Marina, Panama.

A six – days sailing trip from Grenada, on the gorgeous former 'Ocean Phoenix'.

I had gathered crew the day before and we were running smoothly,

a soft 20kn breeze pushing us steadily over the 2m – rollers, coming from behind.

I was on night watch.

My crew member, a seasoned sailor, was franticly looking around.

It was pitch black, not a single vessel visible on the radar.

'Captain, shut down the navigation lights.'

I laughed. 'Don't worry. If pirates attack us, I will handle them. Just stay below deck.'

The flair gun was on the chart table, loaded.

Shelter Bay Marina, Panama, 29 May 2025

10 am. I was taking the yacht into the marina, letting it glide like a swan into its berth.

'Captain, well done. ' I looked towards the bow, straight at Eduardo.

I was exhausted. Mentally and physically.

I had been in survival mode for almost a year.

And it was time to put my armor down.

His black aura was the first thing I noticed.

A few months later, he would turn out to be my karmic twin flame – disguised as my human soulmate. And I would leave Panama to get away from his mind games.

Punta Arenas, Chile, 15 August 2025

9 am. I was standing on the icy deck of the 'Anan', a 150 feet landing craft, holding a hot coffee in my hand, watching the seagulls flying high above me.

I had been working day and night for weeks to get this vessel into shape, dealing on top of that with important legal, operational and financial issues that the owner wasn't able to handle.

11 am. The owner of the vessel called me, again. He'd already called me at 2.30 am.

Pressuring me into accepting his wife's stupid decisions.

'Sir, if you don't follow my lead, you will lose this vessel.'

He didn't believe me.

He lost the vessel exactly two months later, letting his wife's ego pave the way.

Arrogance and lack of awareness always lead to destruction.

San Juan del Sur, Nicaragua, 21 November 2025

I have written this essay out of love for my horse.

And to honor all the horses who passed away in Sidi Berni.

I know how difficult it is to accept the transition of loved ones into another dimension.

But I can assure you that their energetical expression can manifest into your reality.

Because unconditional love never fades – it remains present and accessible, always.

I have witnessed a draft horse dancing around, waving his head just like Badie did.

Or a cat looking at me with the exact same soft expression.

When I ask my horse to manifest his presence, the same warm energy fills my heart.

I hope that this work is helpful to you, sparing you unnecessary pain.

May the Universe bless you, always. 

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