On story
Tales and dreams are the shadow-truths that will endure when mere facts are dust and ashes, and forgot.
I would like to reflect on stories, on writing, and on what Sandman has to say about them.
Stories are the province of Dream. His realm is not only the place we visit while slumbering, but also the realm of all that is not. In contrast with his brother Destiny, who is lord of all that is, was, and will be, Dream is the lord of all that is not and will never be.
What is it that Sandman has to say about dreams and stories? Much over the course of the series. Let’s see what we can tease out from just this issue.
Story can live on in the dreams of men, long beyond the storyteller.
…I want it never to die. To live forever.
At the interval, Shaper compliments Shekespear on the play. “They are well-pleased, as am I, good Will. It is finely crafted and it will last.” He expresses satisfaction, and the key point in his mind seems to be that the play will last.
We see part of why this is so important to him. It is his gift to the fey.
“You have asked me why I asked you back to this plane, to see the entertainment. I… During your stay on this Earth the faerie have afforded me much diversion, and entertainment. Now you have left, for your own haunts. And I would repay you for all the amusement. And more. They shall not forget you. That was important to me: that King Auberon and Queen Titania will be remembered by mortals, until this age is gone.”
It was precisely this that Shaxberd had asked for, at the inn in 1589: “…to give men dreams, that would live on long after I am dead.”
Note that these words show quite clearly the interplay of dreams and stories.
In their 1789 encounter, Hob and Dream discuss King Lear. Their conversation speaks to the endurance of the great stories, and also perhaps reveals Dream’s thoughts on change.
“I saw King Lear yesterday. Mrs. Siddons as Goneril. The idiots had given it a happy ending.”
“That will not last. The Great Stories always return to their original forms.”
This idea about the power of stories to last is perhaps best presented in Sandman #50, “Ramadan”. It concerns Haroun Al Raschid, King of Kings, presiding over the greatest city in the greatest kingdom at the greatest moment in the history of the world. They were days of true wonders. And he was troubled.
“This is the greatest city that Allah, may He be praised from the rising of the sun in the morning until the setting of the sun in the evening, and also in the nighttime, and in the hours before dawn, has seen fit to bless the world. And this is the perfect age…
“But how long can it last? How long will people remember? I have seen the world, Dream King. I have ridden through the deserts, and seen the rocks and old walls and statues breathed up by the desert wind in the empty wastes of sand; and then the wind and the sand come up once more and the remnants of cities and palaces and gods vanish for another age of man, forgotten and unremembered. This is as good as it’s going to be, isn’t it?
“…But Allah alone knows all. Indeed.”
So he gives the Golden Age of Baghdad to Dream, to ensure that his world endures eternally in story.
“It is his forever, providing that as long as mankind lasts, our world is not forgotten.”
The world is ever-changing; only story endures.
Story is just as true as reality, but in a different way.
This is magnificent… and it is true! It never happened, yet it is still true. What magic art is this?
Puck implicitly understands that the magic of the play lies in its truth. Auberon is slower to grasp this point. When Dream explains that Auberon will be remembered through this play, Auberon counters that the play is not true. Dream corrects him.
“We thank you, Shaper. But this diversion, although pleasant, is not true. Things never happened thus.”
“Oh, but it is true. Things need not have happened to be true. Tales and dreams are the shadow-truths that will endure when mere facts are dust and ashes and forgot.”
The insane Justice League villain Dr. Destiny recognized something similar in Sandman #5, “Passengers”.
“People think dreams aren’t real because they aren’t made of matter, of particles. Dreams are real. But they are made of viewpoints, of images, of memories and puns and lost hopes…”
In Sandman #15, “Into the Night”, Rose Walker has become a dream vortex and finds herself walking in the dreams of those in her apartment complex, including Barbie, who in her dream is Princess Barbara on a quest with Martin Tenbones to the Brightly-Shining Sea. The narrator describes: “Barbie’s rich dream-life, more valid and true than anything she feels when waking.”
To look to another Gaiman work, he opens his novel Coraline with a quote he attributes to G.K. Chesterton: “Fairy tales are more than true – not because they tell us dragons exist, but because they tell us dragons can be beaten.”
The attribution to Chesterton is itself not precisely grounded in reality, but true in perhaps a different sense.
Great stories can be found in both tragedy and comedy.
Why did you not want a tragedy? Something lofty, something dark, a tale of a noble hero with a tragic flaw?
Recall the thoughts of Richard Burbage on the comedy they are about to perform.: “…this barbarous farrago of a fairy-tale hodgepotch is a mere crowd-pleaser at best. Tragedy is my forté. I have told Will to make me a lover most tragical, and when we return to London, I will make them weep true tears.”
However, the play’s audience and benefactor seem to appreciate its worth, and it has withstood the test of time. Perhaps there is more to it than Burbage surmised.
In Sandman #6, “24 Hours Diner”, we meet Bette. She is a writer in disguise as a waitress to gather material. Her stories are based on reality, but then fixed. For example, in her stories, the two girls in a lesbian relationship have already been married off to fine young men.
“All Bette’s stories have happy endings. That’s because she knows where to stop. She’s realized the real problem with stories– if you keep them going long enough, they always end in death.”
Bette is onto something about endings. G.K. Chesterton wrote something similar, in a book that can only be found in Lucien’s Library: “…happy endings were never difficult to find: ‘It is simply a matter,’ he explained to April, ‘of finding a sunny place in a garden, where the light is golden and the grass is soft; somewhere to rest, to stop reading, and to be content.'”
I think that Gaiman would suggest that neither Burbage nor Bette are correct about which type of story is preferable, that stories can be great with happy endings or tragic ones, or everything in between.
As we saw in the performance of the story of Pyramus, sometimes the difference between a tragedy and a comedy lies only in the competence of its actors.
Shakespeare’s final play will be a comedy. His daughter informs him: “Mother says that we would be richer had you written nothing by comedies. She says no one goes to the theatre to be made glum.”
The story of Sandman is a tragedy. But is it the story Gaiman truly wanted to tell? Shakespeare describes The Tempest as “merely the sort of fairy story all parents tell to amuse their children”. He describes the ending as “unequivocally cheap and happy”.
So why is this his final play? Why is this Dream’s final payment? Why not a lofty tragedy? Dream responds.
“I wanted a tale of graceful ends. I wanted a play about a King who drowns his books, and breaks his staff, and leaves his kingdom. About a magician who becomes a man. About a man who turns his back on magic.”
But this rough magic I here abjure…
I’ll break my staff,
Bury it certain fathoms in the earth,
And deeper than did ever plummet sound
I’ll drown my book…
Story can mirror reality, but only to a point.
I asked you earlier if you saw yourself reflected in your tale. I do not. I MAY not.
Peaseblossom reacts to seeing himself portrayed on stage. “Did you hear that? Peaseblossom! That’s meant to be me, that is! Iss nuffink like me! Nuffink!”
Skarrow responds: “It isn’t you, Peaseblossom. Now be quiet.”
This comes up repeatedly as Shakespeare is writing The Tempest. He sees two drunken sailors with an Indian corpse at the Inn, and this encounter makes its way into his play: “…when they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead indian.”
Dream asks Shakespeare if he sees himself reflected in his tales.
“I would be a fool if I denied it. I am Prosper, certainly; and I trust I shall. But I am also Ariel–a flaming fiery spirit, crackling like lightning in the sky. And I am dull Caliban. I am dark Antonio, brooding and planning, and old Gonzalo, counseling silly wisdom. And I am Trinculo, the jester, and Stephano, the butler, for they are clowns and fools, and I am also a clown and a fool. And on occasion, drunkards.”
However, Shakespeare goes on to say:
“Well, my own fine words notwithstanding, life is no play. We meet people once, and never see them again. There is no shape to events, no point at which we turn to the audience for their praise.”
Yet again, we see why Dream is also known as Shaper.
We also learn that storytelling takes a toll on the storyteller, that it is difficult to try to walk in both the worlds of story and reality. We will see this more in the coming sections.
On change
Things have changed and will change more…
Once, when asked to summarize his opus in a single sentence, Neil Gaiman offered: “The Lord of Dreams realizes he must change or die, and makes his decision.”
Gaiman is paraphrasing the words of Lucien, at Morpheus’ Wake, from Sandman #71. “Charitably… I think… sometimes, perhaps, one must change or die. And in the end, there were, perhaps, limits to how much he could let himself change.”
Change is embodied by Dream’s brother, Destruction, who has fled his realm, seeking to absolve himself of responsibility for what is to come.
The story of the series is about Sandman changing, a change spurred–if not entirely initiated–by his imprisonment that begins the series. He never really accepts that he is changing and tends to deny it when others frequently point it out.
The first time it’s pointed out to him, however, he does not quite deny it, but seems to consider the possibility. The scene takes place in Sandman #4, “A Hope in Hell”. As Dreams walks with the Demon Etrigran (created by Jack Kirby), Dream notes how Hell has changed.
“Things change. Things change… in Earth and Hell… To rise among the fallen? Strange and true. But as things change, Lord, they transmute as well… And if I’ve changed O King, then what of you?”
“I have been… absent… for some time… But changed…? Perhaps.”
Of course, the biggest change for Hell is yet to come.
In Sandman #17, Dream has a conversation with Calliope after rescuing her; her words echo those of both Auberon and Etrigan. “My time is over, and this age of the world is not my age.”
A nearly identical sentiment to that expressed by Auberon this issue. The world has changed and the current age of the world has no place for magical things.
“This must be our last visit to this Earth, Shaper. Things have changed and will change more; and Gaia no longer welcomes us as she once did.”
This play may be Dream’s attempt to preserve what is lost. As we’ve discussed, the world changes, but story endures. So what of the Prince of Stories?
Calliope goes on to say: “You have changed, Oneiros. In the old days, you would have left me to rot forever, without turning a hair…”
Indeed, centuries earlier, Calliope had said: “I thought I could change him. But he does not change. He will not. Perhaps he can not.”
In “The Tempest”, Dream denies the idea he might change without considering the idea, when Shakespeare suggests it to him.
“But you have changed since I last saw you.”
“Not I, but you, good Will.”
In their final conversation, Dream reminds Shakespeare again, “I am not a man… and I do not change.”
On the price of dreams fulfilled
The price of getting what you want is getting what once you wanted.
But where shall wisdom be found? and where is the place of understanding? Man knoweth not the price thereof; neither is it found in the land of the living … for the price of wisdom is above rubies.
Job 28:12,13,18
Dream’s sibling is Desire. They do not get along. There is an interplay between dream and desire; the line between one’s desires and one’s dreams can be rather hazy. Indeed, Dream himself sometimes uses the words seemingly interchangeably. This may be the source of tension between them.
Shakespeare wanted to be a great playwright. That was his desire; his dream. It was what he wanted. It was what he thought he wanted.
“For one’s art and one’s dreams one may consort and bargain with the darkest pow’rs,” says Shakespeare. That is exactly what he does.
What is the cost of those wishes coming true? Many are the classic tales of magic lamps and monkey paws, which warn to be careful what you wish for.
While watching the performance of “Midsummer Night’s Dream”, Dream seems to be in an uncharacteristically introspective mood. He is not given to self-doubt, nor to concerning himself overmuch with the fate of mortals. But he fears he did wrong in making his bargain with Will Shekespear.
“I wonder, Titania. I wonder if I have done right. And I wonder why I wonder. Will is a willing vehicle for the great stories. Through him they will live for an age of man; and his words will echo down through time. It is what he wanted. But he did not understand the price. Mortals never do. They only see the prize, their heart’s desire, their dream… But the price of getting what you want is getting what once you wanted. And had I told him? Had he understood? What then? It would have made no difference. Have I done right, Titania? Have I done right?”
There is a motif about dreams and wishes and desires thoughout the series. But often in the context of a reminder to be careful for what one wishes. There is a difference between what we desire and what we once desired.
We see hints of the price being paid in this issue, through the eyes of Hamnet. The final issue will make the price clear.
Will is often away from home, and when he is home, he is not really there. When we peek at him at the end of his career, his marriage is failing. As Will puts it, “We remain civil. I sleep on my bed, in my room, and she sleeps in her bed, in hers.”
We see an argument of Shakespeare and his wife Anne play out.
“You are never satisfied, my Will. You do not want what you wanted as soon as you have it, but you must always be pining and plaining after something more.”
“What win I, if I gain the thing I seek? A dream, a breath, a froth of fleeting joy. Who buys a minute’s mirth to wail a week? Or sells eternity to get a toy?”
“More of your pretty-play nonsense. Well, I can give you the answer to that one. Who buys a minute’s mirth to wail a week? That’s people do that. Like Old Quiney spending his pennies on the whores of London town. You know the trouble with you, Will? You live in words, not in the real world. You think too much. You dream too much.”
“Whereas I consider myself a practical man.”
“Of course you do, my dear. Practical men always desert their wives and run away to make up pretty tales, and write pretty sonnets to pretty girls and pretty boys.”
As Shakespeare laments, reflecting to Dream upon the cost of it all:
“Whatever happened to me in my life, happened to me as a writer of plays. I’d fall in love or fall in lust, and at the height of my passions, I would think, ‘So this is how it feels,’ and I would tie it up in pretty words. I watched my life as if it were happening to someone else. My son died and I was hurt, but I watched my hurt. And even relished it a little, for now I could write a real death, a true loss. My heart was broken by my dark lady, and I wept in my room, alone; but while I wept, somewhere inside I smiled. For I knew I could take my broken heart and place it on the stage of the Globe, and make the pit cry tears of their own. And now… I am no longer young. My health is not good, and my daughter consorts with a lecherous ape, which her fancy amends to a gallant prince. My wife sleeps in her father’s bed, far from me: and she treats me like a foolish child. And Prospero and Miranda, Caliban and Gonzalo, aethereal Ariel and silent Antonio, all of them are more real to me than silly, wise Ben Johnson; Susanna and Judith; the good citizens of Stratford; the whores and oyster-women of London town…”
As the dragon guarding Dream’s gate warned a cat on a quest for revelation: “Dreams have their price.”
The theme about the price of getting what you want echoes repeatedly throughout the series. Take for example, Sandman #38, “The Hunt”. A man from the old country tells a tale of the People to his American granddaughter.
The tale concerns Vassily, who has a necklace belonging to a Duke’s daughter, whom he fell in love with upon seeing her picture. He also is in possession of one of Lucien’s books that don’t exist: “The Merrie Comedies of the Redemption of Dr. Faustus” by Christopher Marlowe.
Vassily returns the book in exchange for being taken to see the girl he loves. Upon seeing her, he returns the necklace and takes his leave. Lucien did not understand why he worked so hard to find the girl of his dreams, only to change his mind and leave her. “But the Lord of Dreams knew that wishes are sometimes best left ungranted; and he did not need to ask.”
The granddaughter does not care for the story. She thinks her grandfather is angry she is dating an American boy not of the People. He does not believe she understood his story.
“But it wasn’t about your boyfriend. It wasn’t really even about the People. It was about what he saw when he looked at the sleeping woman… Why he turned his back on her. It was about dreams…”
Hamnet
There is no night in my land, pretty boy, and it is forever summer’s twilight.
What is the price that Shakespeare truly paid? The price he did not understand when he made his dark bargain.
Story. Change. The price of dreams. I obviously like the three motifs described above, how they resonate through this story and through the entire series. But they are ultimately somewhat abstract. This tale offers more than such grandiose philosophizing. Its power lies is something simpler, something human.
We find that in Hamnet, the son of Will Shakespeare.
A boy with a rare opportunity to spend time with his father. But even when together, they are not. This was the price of the Dream Lord’s gift.
“He’s very distant, Tommy. He doesn’t seem like he’s really there any more. Not really. It’s like he’s somewhere else. Anything that happens he just makes stories out of it. I’m less real to him than any of the characters in his play. Mother says he’s changed in the last five years, but I don’t remember him any other way. Judith–she’s my twin sister–she once joked that if I died, he’d just write a play about it. ‘Hamnet.’… All that matters to him… all that matters is the stories.”
Judith will later reflect on how they all felt at the time: “I would have given the world to have had you here– when I truly was a little girl. I was so envious of Hamnet, when he went with you that summer. He wrote letters home, and Mother or Susanne would read to me what he said, and I would weep, for I could not be there with you. And mother also would weep. Mother wept most of all. Did you not think? Did you not care?”
Shakespeare can only respond, “I… followed a dream. I did as I saw best at the time.”
Titania takes an interest in Hamnet when she sees him perform. She whispers to him during the interval: “…and bonny dragons that will come when you do call them and fly you through they honeyed amber skies. There is no night in my land, pretty boy, and it is forever summer’s twilight.”
Hamnet tries to tell his father about this, but his father ignores him, as always, too focused on the play.
“Father?”
“Not now, child. I must see this.”
“She was such a pretty lady, Father, and she said such things to me.”
If Titania’s meaning was too subtle, a short epilogue makes it clear. We learn that Hamnet would die within three years.
During their final conversation, Dream offers Shakespeare a glimpse of what would have been had he never made the bargain. Shakespeare asks if Hamnet would then have lived, but changes his mind. He does not want to know.
The scans for Sandman #19 come from my own copy. Most other covers come from the GCD. The rest of the pictures were found somewhere on the internet.
And that wraps it up. I sat down to talk about a little 24 page comic and somehow just kept typing. Thank you for making it this far. Only one thing left to say, I guess:
If we shadows have offended, think on this and all is mended: that you have but slumbered here, while these visions did appear. And this weak and idle theme, no more yielding than a dream…
Reading Great Comics
This is the first entry in our “reading great comics” series.
