When I was a preschooler we drove across country. We stopped to see a great-grandmother in Idaho and I remember as we left there were rolling hills of green, and nothing else, forever.
I have often dreamed of those hills and as an adult passing through, I couldn't find them. It's made me feel as if I imagined them. Turns out, that earlier memory did not occur on the interstate which is now the way to go, and has been for the last 40 years.