♠ Louis here. I felt that I should answer this myself, since it is a question for me. Could I share this day with Lestat? If not directly with him, could I give him half? It would seem a beautiful gift to share in either fashion. 

I admit that I’m not wholly prepared to answer, to consider this at all… the fact that I have never considered it is because I would never want to raise such an impossible dream in my heart, only to be crushed by the reality that it can never be. 

Regardless, I’ll give you what comes to mind anyway. Assuming I must keep such a miracle to myself, here’s a small glimpse of ideas of what I might do:

• Sunrise/sunset: Too obvious? Oh well. It’s the truth. I’d witness it, and feel that unique pleasure of sunlight climbing up my bare skin, that warmth spreading, not as a warning, but a loving embrace. That same feeling in reverse, as it slipped away at the end of the day.
• Swim in the ocean, somewhere tropical, perhaps, and feel the tickle of the fish around my body. Maybe take one of those aqueous cameras to capture the composition of the scenery myself, as a memento. I don’t imagine wearing any cumbersome swimwear in this scenario. Maybe just diving equipment (Lestat and I are excellent divers).
• Food and drink: it could be a gastronomic adventure. I was never what you call a “foodie” now, but I have some dishes that I would love to experience again.

  Crêpe Suzette, for breakfast. Fruits, apple juice, coffee. Black coffee, café au lait, jasmine green tea. Beignets from the Cafe du Monde. Gumbo (with alligator). Crawfish

  étouffée.

• Other drink: I wouldn’t want to become so drenched in liquor that it would limit my experience, so I would opt for a few classic mixed drinks, rather than my previous mortal fare of anything in large quantities. A few glasses of St. Germain 75. Or

  Mezcal. Perhaps something I never got to try as a mortal,

  Aszú

  Tokay. I’ve been told it’s very syrupy, but it may go well with vanilla ice cream. 

• Dancing
• Go listen to a string quartet or trio in a garden.
• Ride through my old plantation on horseback.

I would try to take notes throughout, so that I might relive the experience on those nights when eternity seems the most dreary, and I strain to recall the way the light caught the luster of the wooden body of a cello, the way it filtered through the water on the scaled backs of the fish, or shone in the eye of a lady – or man – as I took their hand to dance, as that light receded below the horizon once more.