The speaker keeps dreaming about someone from their past, and they can't work out why. The dreams come when their mind drifts, and they feel vivid: the face, the name, everything as fresh as yesterday. Instead of settling into a clear feeling, the speaker asks questions. Are they still thinking about what could have been? Is it all meaningless? They call it "funny" and "probably nothing," yet admit it somehow "feels like a win," a small, odd flash of happiness that they don't quite trust.
The last lines add to the puzzle. The dreams only come after dusk, and nothing in daily life sets them off. With no clear trigger, the speaker is left with the simple, slightly helpless question of the final line.
The mood is quiet, wistful, and uncertain. The speaker plays it down on the surface, but the repeated questions and the title's "still" suggest the feeling hasn't faded. Longing and confusion sit side by side.