not ice cream

Not sure why I was there again, with those loud men I was a little bit afraid of, in their shop and therefore in their territory.. Or why I then asked whether they still made that famous ice-cream, which, they said they still did. A waiter brought a tub which I opened. The contents were certainly not ice-cream, but what looked like food left-over, bits of kebab meat and potato salad. "You ordered it and now you have to eat it all, or we would be offended. You know, rules of the house", said the middle age man in the white shirt and shades. The table was now surrounded by their staff, all standing in hieratic poses. In the distance, the clouds were gathering and darkening and the sky was turning purple and red. The storm was coming. I looked at the disgusting mess in the ice-cream tub and looked around. Hostile faces, no gaps to run through them. The only way out would be to wake up...