The Rusty Key Dream

Making sense of symbols, synchronicities and my creative project

Castle Keyhole photo by Aleksey Nemiro on Pixabay.com

September was a tough month for a couple of different reasons. Chief among them, was the confusion I was feeling over a creative project. This post is about where I was at, the dream that came at just the right time and the synchronicities and good advice that followed.

Where I was at

I had been struggling with my memoir in progress for some time.

You’ve heard me mention it before. Depending on how I’m feeling about it on any given week, I might consider it a spiritual memoir or neurodiversity memoir or both. This is only part of the conflict.

As I worked on the project, last month, I decided to include a 2012 dream I believe to be a visitation dream. Then I decided I should write about the relationship it referenced, as well. This turned into an entire chapter on a very difficult time in my life. By the time I was done with the chapter, I saw the full impact this relationship had for the first time.

It was a lot to process and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to continue with the project at all. I talked about this in my neurodiversity podcast which I’ll link to below.

Before the difficult-time-in-my-life chapter, I was feeling good about that, thinking that maybe that was the major theme.

The more I thought about the failed relationship chapter, however, the more I second-guessed. Eventually, I took many of the spiritual insights out and focused more on neurodiversity and the struggles I have had as an undiagnosed AuDHDer.

For some people this wouldn’t have been a big deal. Projects change direction. But this is a thing for me. I create things, and then I tear them apart. I have come to think of this building-shredding process as a form of self-sabotage

Then as sometimes happens, I had a dream.

I called it the Rusty Key Dream and I couldn’t help noticing a connection between it the 2012 visitation dream (which was about the same failed relationship I’d been writing about).

Anyway, that was the situation. Here is the dream:

The Rusty Key Dream (9/6/2025)

Scene 1. I have a booth at an indoor flea market. There is an outdoor sort of fair, then the building where I have my booth. I think the building is masonry painted white with a large opening (like a concession or covered veranda) where a woman sits behind a counter or long table in the shade. She is probably in her 60s. She owns the business and is responsible for the leases. She has a rough voice like a smoker and short dark hair. I think she might have dark cat’s-eye sort of glasses. Either way there is something kind of 1940s or 50s about her. She seems harsh or abrasive. I tell her I am not renewing my rental agreement for the next month. It is summer and I have a sense of sun and greenery behind me as we talk.

Scene 2. I have just attended some kind of event at our local mall and people are filing out of the venue. I have the sense that the fair / flea market is on the second floor. I am leaving with a man and a child (possibly ten or eleven). I have a vague sense of them but recall no detail. I remember that I have the rented booth upstairs and that I will need to get my things out before the lease is up. I have a table, my mother’s cash or strong box and a green crocheted tablecloth (I own this tablecloth in real life) still in the booth. I am worried I won’t get these items back once the agreement lapses. I wonder if I can get the table down by myself but then decide I can manage.

“Go get the car,” I say to the man. “I canceled my booth and need to get my table before they throw it out.”

“I thought the key didn’t work,” he says.

I pull out the key. [I recall it very clearly.] It is a little like a strongbox key with a round head and simple geometric grooves. It’s made of lighter weight metal than a house key but is around the same size. The key looks old and is spotted w rust (in random circular areas where some kind of coating might have come off), not rusted overall.

Scene 3. I go back upstairs, I think by escalator. The woman is gone. I go down a white corridor maybe 15 ft long. It is a little shabby with closed doors on either side. Then I come to the door of my shop / booth. I put the key in the door and have trouble getting it to open. I’m not positive I get the door open but I remember seeing strong box and that the inside of the room being bare except for the items I came for so I guess I got in.

If you're interested you can read the 2012 dream here:

Possible Interpretations of the Rusty Key Dream

The man and child in the Rusty Key dream reminded me of a 2012 visitation dream that meant a lot to me. I’d found out that an old boyfriend had died in that dream and he’d had a child with him.

I remembered very little about the child in the visitation dream and even less now. I wasn’t even sure it was the same man. But the fact that all of this had been on my mind seemed relevant.

Around that time, the Dream School I attend offered a special workshop on dream art. As the panelists discussed the value of drawing your dreams I drew the Rusty Key Dream (below).

As I drew, I found myself drawing the man too dark (as you can see in the head and neck area). He was gray, I realized, not black. Immediately, I thought of a computer and how sometimes certain unavailable options are grayed out. When that happens, you can’t select them. They are not an option. I wondered if that was the message. The past could be processed but it could not be chosen.

I also started to think about the strongbox and wonder if it my meant to be my earthly mother’s strongbox or something else. Thinking about the items I was to retrieve—the table, the tablecloth, the locked box—I was reminded of an altar, a Catholic altar, complete with altar cloth. I remembered that the tabernacle is locked and that Mary is often thought of as the tabernacle (that holds the host/Jesus) in Catholic thought.

So there was an altar (which is my personal association with tables) and a locked box but the box didn’t contain the host. It belonged to my mother—but maybe not my earthly mother.

The Next Synchronicity

This made a lot of sense but I was busy tearing the manuscript apart and not ready to stop. I did the podcast below around that time. And, while I was happy with the podcast, I wasn’t sure what I was doing with the memoir or the past.

I knew I was sabotaging myself but I wasn’t sure if I was right or wrong. I thought maybe other spiritually minded women might have a helpful take on some of this.

So I started poking around online and found the following:

I loved how Jungian it was, using the same language used in the Dream School I attend. What if this is true, I thought. What if we aren’t really divided against ourselves? What if we’re not actually sabotaging? What if we are dealing with outlawed wisdom?

What if, instead shredding, we’re supposed to listen?

Where This Leaves Me

I can’t say for sure what’s happening with the memoir but I think I’m getting some sense of the general direction. How it will turn out exactly is anyone’s guess. There is a lot of work left to do, and it isn’t all about writing.

Related Posts:

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UPDATE:

After writing this post, I found that the analysts from my school had a podcast on self-sabotage on YouTube. In this video, the analyst point out that while understanding self-sabotage always has value, we can’t assume it’s always pushing us in the right direction.