Fortelling the future

In my immediate future I'll likely grab another coffee. I can predict that.
Sometimes I look at pictures of myself and I wonder if, when I was sixteen, someone had shown me a picture of what I would look like at 31 I would have been happy or surprised by it. And would my sixteen year old self be happy having seen a glimpse of life at 31? I can't say I ever planned that far out so it's not like I had some long term goals that I've failed to reach. Some people have five year plans. I barely have five day plans.
I do generally think that on a day to day basis I have a pretty idea of what's going to happen. But if someone had told me on Saturday morning what I would be venturing into on Saturday night I would have been more than a little doubtful.
Nonetheless, it's Sunday afternoon and here I am. Where the fuck that is, I'm still working on.

Last night I dreamed that I was at Lasqueti with my dad. I was pulling my kayak alongside his and it was filling with water faster than I could bail it out. Additionally, I had managed to lose my paddle (after my mother had predicted that I might do just that) and so I was trying to paddle my kayak with my goddamn hands. It was really frustrating and more than a little scary. And while this was all going on it was a stellar day: beautiful blue sky, calm green sea, nature abounding and no one seemed to really pay mind to my exasperation.

Wow. I just realized that I'm not drinking a second cup of coffee: I've switched to a nice Vanilla Rooibos. Any dibs on where I'll be tonight?