She wakes up from the dream and goes to the window, because this is what she always does and she has fallen into a certain routine. She finds that she is able to accept things if they happen regularly, no matter how fantastic they may seem.
And there he is, standing out on the sidewalk in the light. It is snowing, gently, soft flakes sifting down into his too-long hair.
It is always snowing when she has the dream.
And he is always there, standing in the light, with his eyes like two perfectly blue round coins.
She pulls on her clothes, because she has become quiet and efficent and is now able to leave the house without making a sound. She pads down the hallway and out the front door, only pulling on her boots once she is safely outside.
She locks the door from the inside and smiles, knowing that she won't need the key to get back in.
He waits for her, in the snow, in the light.
And the moment she touches his hand, they both disappear.