We had dreary clouds all day, but no more snow, followed by “forgetfully falling snow” (e.e. cummings) at dusk. Small flakes float down like champagne bubbles. We walked under streetlights and a veiled moon, shuffling softly through almost-slush.
In an atmosphere like that, memories rise unbidden and surround you at every turn. It’s easy to let go of your body and drift off into the dream.