A crucial passage in In Search of Lost Time

A central and crucial  passage in Proust's In Search of Lost Time comes in the middle of part 2 of The Guremantes Way when in fact Marcel, observes that recollections and memories are attached to specific sensory feelings about certain places and moments and that therefore our consciousness of time is not fluid and sequential but rather built upon certain exceptional if sometimes inexplicable moment - he calls this "the theme of this book." But what strikes me most is the scene he recounts next, which proceeds much like a dream sequence (though it is not): How are we to interpret this? Marcel's friend Saint-Loup makes a sudden and unexpected appearance, has just returned to Paris (his relation with Rachel is over) and wants to take Marcel out to dinner; they take a cab through nearly impenetrable fog, during which Saint-Loup off-handedly says he's told Marcel's other best friend, Bloch, that Marcel has no use for him - infuriating Marcel. They arrive at the restaurant and Marcel is treated rudely; realizes there are two rooms, each with a different clientele: one houses posh aristocratic young men whom Marcel realizes are closet homosexuals; the other - leftist Jews (Dreyfusards). The host won't let Marcel sit among the aristos and stashes him into the room with the Jews - leading to some really nasty observations from Marcel (from Proust?). Not hard to interpret this, is it? Marcel taken away by his friend - about whom there has been a lot of homoerotic imagery - who has taken steps to make Marcel all his own - but M. cannot face - as a person, a character, or a writer - his own homosexuality - it's all like a thick fog to him - but for others it's more clear and evident - just as he can discern that the womanizing of the aristocrats is a front, a shield. But he cannot join them. But that leaves him to face another part of who he really is - a Jew (or in Proust's case a halfie - not even touched on in this novel): consigned to dine in the "ghetto" and filled with vile observations, which are really observations about himself, his repression. For a character (or novelist) who's probed every facet of human consciousness, there's also a tremendous lack of self-knowledge, an emptiness, at the heart.