According to Judge William, the aesthete laughs the 'laughter of despair' and Kierkegaard speaks of the 'superior indolence that cares for nothing at all, that does not care to work [...], that disperses and exhausts all the powers of the soul in soft enjoyment, and lets consciousness itself evaporate into a loathsome gloaming'.

The whole night he had been stuck in the gloaming where sleep kept threatening, but all he got were hallucinations.

in that gloaming territory between

the kind of mauvish gloaming hour

I remember us "huddled" in the gloaming going to gloom.