The man sitting on the sidewalk of Dhaka - whose name was once Ayan Chowdhury - now knows only as "Unknown." No one remembers him, not even himself. But he had that glass jar with him, in which a dream was caught and trembling. Every day he looked at the jar, as if searching for something.

One night, an old beggar sat down next to him. He said strangely,

"Dreams are returning to the world again. But be careful, the days of dream thieves have begun."

"Dream thief?" - the man was surprised.

The beggar took an old, rusty locket from his neck and handed it to him.

"This is the key to the sleep-restoring device. Find the rest - before they get it."

Then he disappeared. The next day, the newspaper had a big headline - "Strange sleeping sickness all over the city: Eyes open, but asleep!"

The doctors could not explain. But the man understood that Nishupur was returning to reality. Or, reality was entering Nishupur.

He walked with the locket into a dilapidated cinema hall in the old city. As soon as he entered, the picture on the wall moved - there was a scene of the river, and in the middle stood a man in black, his face covered, his eyes red.

He said, "You made a mistake by coming back. We live by stealing dreams. You want to bring back dreams? But you have to give your own first."

The jar in the man's hand began to shake. The dream inside was screaming.

"Who are you?" - the man asked.

The black man said, "I am the one who is called the 'dream thief,' but I am actually the Yama of dreams. When dreams come back, death comes back. Are you ready to wake up death?"

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