Mr. Sandman Didn’t Bring Me a Dream

Me, Neil Gaiman, and possible blessings in disguise

Photo by Kamran Ch on Unsplash

The first six episodes of the second and final series of The Sandman is on Netflix, as of July 3^rd, and the rest will be released later this month. I debated back and forth about whether I would write about the show and my surrounding experiences, and the now-“canceled” author of The Sandman comics the series is based on, Neil Gaiman. After much thought, I decided it might be worth writing about my encounters with him and his work, and how audiences and big enthusiasts of stories and characters may have trouble separating the art from the artist. It also may make readers muse about how events can work out the way they are supposed to… as differently as you may have wanted them to occur at the time.

I first met Neil Gaiman at a sci-fi and fantasy convention in Minnesota, near the turn of the millennium. He used to reside (at least) part-time in the Midwest because of his then-marriage, so he obviously didn’t need to travel very far. I was a college Anglophile sci-fi and fantasy geekette, and quite proud of it. I was very aware of his work for DC Comics and Vertigo, but I hadn’t delved as deeply into his work as many others may have. At this event, I got him to sign my copy of Good Omens, which he co-wrote with Sir Terry Pratchett (and a mere week later, I got Sir Terry to sign the book just below his autograph). He was usually very talkative to fans, and I told him I’d watched and enjoyed his BBC fantasy series, Neverwhere, telling him that I’d noticed that the aleatory and electronic music guru, Brian Eno, had written the soundtrack. Gaiman replied that Eno had recorded something like 10 hours of music and then told the production team to use whatever they wanted – and that information made me beam. Unlike nowadays, you didn’t have to pay for a photo with a celebrity at the convention, so a couple of fan friends and I took a photo with him as he signed some books. At one point, somebody in the hotel had mispronounced his name, and someone overheard, and misunderstood that Neil Diamond was hanging around the premises! There was also an awkward moment when I and four or five friends saw the elevator door open, and Gaiman, with entourage, saw us standing there. Then he seemed to change his mind about getting on. Naturally: this did our egos wonders…! My significant other at the time even bought me a copy of Gaiman’s children’s book, The Day I Swapped My Dad for Two Goldfish (with fantastic art by Dave McKean) as a lovey-dovey, sweet present.

Many years later (in 2014), I researched and wrote an article about Doctor Who and its extraordinary, record-breaking longevity on Iowa Public Television (Iowa PBS). Gaiman wrote a story for Doctor Who, titled “The Doctor’s Wife,” for Matt Smith’s version of the character, in 2011. I made a special point of mentioning that in the late 1990s, Iowa PBS had aired Neverwhere alongside Doctor Who and many other similar science fiction and genre shows, in a themed block. Neverwhere was a television series created from an idea by Gaiman and his friend, comedian Lenny Henry, inspired by the many un-housed and down-and-out people they would encounter on the London Underground Tube network. It was set in a type of netherworld, alternate, unseen London, and later, he adapted it into a book. I noted in the article that the television version of Neverwhere featured Peter Capaldi, who later assumed the title role of “The Doctor” in Doctor Who itself. It was on Iowa PBS that I saw Neverwhere, and was why and how I had asked him about it at that event years before.

Finally, in 2022: The Sandman was adapted for television, after numerous failed attempts to adapt it for the big screen over the years. I auditioned for one of the recurring roles, and I am reasonably sure I was one of the final actors considered, but I didn’t get the gig (possible humble-brag, I know). Due to my very long-held (and documented… Q.E.D.!) love of British sci-fi and fantasy, losing out on that one stung acutely, but such is the life of an actor. Months later, after the series was released, I briefly wrote to Gaiman on social media that that the character I would have portrayed and their characterization was probably a little too close to some real, painful personal events in my life, so maybe it wasn’t so bad that I didn’t get cast. I thanked him and the casting directors for the opportunity. He didn’t reply, but he gave the message a “like,” and to be honest: a confirmation that he'd read it was really all that I’d wanted.

Then in mid-2024, allegations of sexual assault against Gaiman started becoming public, and quickly became numerous. It’s pretty hard to find any good overview online because there are so many accusations, but I think this article from NPR does a pretty informative job. Thus anything involving him or his creative works suddenly became toxic… the third series of Good Omens got curtailed; a musical version of Coraline was canceled; his comics publisher, Dark Horse, dropped him and ceased publishing his title, Anansi Boys… and the list goes on and on.

It’s all very upsetting for anyone, and definitely for his fans. Coming from a sci-fi, fantasy, superhero, and comic book fan background myself, I can empathize with how very deeply fans of Gaiman’s work associate with the characters and storylines they love so much. I have friends and friends-of-friends who are/were professional and personal associates of his. I had never really considered myself one of his very strong fans, but I liked his work that I had consumed. I have a hardback copy of American Gods; and I thought the TV adaptation was enjoyable, but I’ve really liked the star of that show, Ian McShane (“Mr. Wednesday”) for many years, so I had expected to like it. I also liked Coraline the movie; his episode of Doctor Who was unique; love the aforementioned [...] Two Goldfish; etc. Some of the fantasy elements he has written can be quite dark and disturbing, and one probably doesn’t want to go too far down that thought-road, when considering these accusations. What happens to the fans who love the storylines and characters that the author created so much? What do you do, “big fan” or otherwise, when you want to consume the creative work that a “canceled” person created or helped to make, but you don’t want to support, or be seen to be supporting, that person anymore – financially or philosophically? I don’t have the definitive answers for these tough questions, and I suspect the “solutions” are as varied and individual as the people who must wrestle with their own consciences about them.

In the cases of the television shows, it’s often not quite as easy as just “cancelling the project.” Contracts with myriad personnel have been signed; money has been raised and budgets allocated; platforms are expecting the deliverables; etc., and productions often must go ahead. And it’s doubtlessly a terrible feeling to be associated with a creative work from a person who has been accused of so many horrific deeds – probably the most so, for an actor, who is lending their likeness to a character in the imagination of the viewing public.

The main character of “The Sandman” is also called “Morpheus,” “The Dream Lord,” and “Dream.” He’s a god or demigod who travels through, and gives people, dreams… including nightmares. As much as it would have been a dream-come-true to act in a British fantasy television adaptation like The Sandman, considering all these accusations I must naturally ask myself: did I dodge a bullet when I wasn’t cast in the screen version of a storyline so many people have loved for decades? And do circumstances sometimes work out the way they are supposed to, even if they may not feel like it at the time?

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