I had a perfect day. Or so I am told. It wasn't today, it was about twenty-seven or twenty-eight years ago. I don't remember it in the slightest. Although I do have memories from as young as six months old (or less, accounts vary) I don't remember this day at all.
My dad tells me though that it was the perfect day. I can't verify this myself though. I am told that my parents took me on a day trip to Julian, and that it was the perfect day. I imagine that they had apple pie and laughed the day away.
I dreamt tomorrow had a prettier face I dreamt tomorrow would have better things to say . . .