I dreamt of a bridge over a great expanse of water, made of a dark gray wood. There were others with me, but I led the way. The sky was dark, and the waters cold when we began to cross. In the distance the land was made up of only the pale silhouette of hills. There was no promise in the distance except of not being on the water. Then the sky, already cold and gray, grew violent. The churning clouds broke open with rain, washing over us. The water rushing beneath the bridge swelled, and soon the current washed over the dark boards. They became slick, and we were pressed against the rail, skidding our feet to cross. Yet the expanse was so wide the land never seemed to draw close. The rains poured harder, and water seemed it would sweep us away.
A dream I'm certain is about the journey my fellow M.Ed cohorts and I are making on our way to becoming teachers.