Proust

Proust describes rounding a bend in the road: he sees a stand of trees he’s seen before, but whether he first saw them in a dream or in the distant real past, he can’t say.  "I watched the trees gradually recede, waving their despairing arms, seeming to say to me: ‘What you fail to learn from me today, you will never know.  If you allow us to drop back into the hollow of this road from which we sought to raise ourselves up to you, a whole part of yourself which we were bringing to you will vanish forever.’"