It's a brilliant question. After all, as you suggest, there are at least two emotionally resonant extremes of repetition: on one hand, the almost palpably impossible prolongation of an experience (there is an echo, one lingers before moving on: one moves, it seems, almost against time). And on the other hand the visceral fear of being trapped.
Perhaps in both cases the issue is a kind of interruption of the fabric of time, but not an interruption which stems from our own power; rather, one which reminds us of its uncontrollable movement.
I think one sees both of these aspects at work simultaneously, though much more darkly, in some of Celan's poems. And perhaps in the story (and image) of Orpheus? The music which enchants, holding us suspended outside of time, while in the meantime death enters. Music which is almost able to restore the world afterwards -- but not quite.