I am definitely not going to like The Sandman Season 2 if it does not address these 5 questions

The Sandman season 2 (images via Netflix)
The Sandman season 2 (images via Netflix)

The Sandman Season 2 is finally on the horizon, and it’s bringing with it all the pressure that comes with adapting one of the most acclaimed story arcs in graphic novel history. The first season gave us a rich, moody, and visually ambitious start. But with that slow burn came unfinished business.

Now, as Netflix rolls out The Sandman Season 2, fans aren’t just hoping for answers—we’re demanding them. Because let’s face it: when a show deals with the literal personification of Dream, you don’t just tune in for aesthetics. You stay for layered storytelling, character complexity, and payoff.

That means the second season can’t afford to dance around the emotional and narrative landmines it laid down in season 1. The Sandman Season 2 must step up or risk becoming another ambitious series that buckled under its dream logic.

As someone who’s been with this story in its many forms—from comics to screen—I have five very specific questions. If the show doesn’t at least try to answer them, it won’t just be a letdown. It’ll be a missed opportunity to truly honor what makes this world unforgettable.


What is Lucifer really up to in season 2?

The Sandman Season 2 has already teased a showdown between Dream and Lucifer, and that tension can’t be brushed aside. Gwendoline Christie gave us a Lucifer with presence and promise. But season 1 ended with a cryptic threat: Lucifer will do something that will make

“God absolutely livid.”

Okay—so what is it?

If season 2 doesn’t reveal Lucifer’s endgame beyond vague revenge, then it risks flattening one of the most morally complex characters in the story. The showrunners have confirmed the “Season of Mists” arc will be central, which means Lucifer’s abdication of Hell needs real emotional and theological weight.

No cut corners, no plot armor. Just bold storytelling that explores the consequences of free will, rebellion, and cosmic power vacuums.


What does Desire really want?

Desire is chaos bottled in velvet—and in season 1, they were mostly just lurking, scheming, and whispering. That was fine for a build-up. But The Sandman Season 2 must take the lid off and let us see what’s boiling underneath.

Why is Desire so obsessed with taking down Dream? Is it just sibling rivalry, or is there a deeper game at play? The Sandman Season 2 can’t keep skating by with aesthetic vibes alone. If Desire doesn’t get a clearer narrative purpose this season, then the character’s potential gets wasted. Worse, the story loses one of its most enigmatic threats.


Can “Season of Mists” be done justice?

This isn’t just a fan wish—it’s a test. “Season of Mists” is one of the most iconic arcs in Neil Gaiman’s original comic run. It’s the one where Dream goes to Hell, only to find that Lucifer has quit and left him in charge of deciding who gets to control it next. The result? An epic, political, philosophical free-for-all with gods, demons, and cosmic beings all vying for power.

The Sandman Season 2 must balance humor, horror, and high-concept drama if it wants to do this arc justice. It can’t shy away from the wild characters or the ethical dilemmas at the heart of it. If the show gets squeamish or chooses style over substance, fans will feel it. And frankly, we deserve more than just fan service. We want impact.


Will The Sandman Season 2 fix its representation gaps?

Let’s talk about the elephant in the Dreaming. The Sandman has always prided itself on being inclusive, both in the comics and on screen. But the first season received mixed feedback on how well it handled character depth and representation, especially for Despair, Lucienne, and the upcoming Wanda.

Neil Gaiman has acknowledged this feedback and promised better. Now, The Sandman Season 2 needs to show it. Representation can’t just be about casting—it’s about writing. Wanda’s introduction, for example, is crucial. If she’s reduced to a plot device or oversimplified into a stereotype, it’ll feel hollow.

The same goes for emotional depth across the board. Everyone from Death to The Corinthian deserves more than surface traits. If The Sandman Season 2 wants to evolve, it has to care about who these characters are, not just what they represent.


Is Dream going to change or not?

Here’s the real heart of it all. The Sandman Season 2 has to address whether Morpheus, aka Dream, is capable of change. Season 1 gave us a proud, rigid, and often emotionally distant lord of the Dreaming. We saw cracks in that armor, but they were small.

Now, with arcs like “Brief Lives” and “The Kindly Ones” potentially on the horizon, The Sandman Season 2 needs to dive into Dream’s growth—or his downfall. Is he learning from his past mistakes? Is he becoming more human? Or is he too bound by duty and pride to change?

It’s not just a character question—it’s the whole point of the show. If Dream doesn’t evolve, the rest of the story has no gravity. The Sandman Season 2 must make us believe that growth is possible, even for the Endless.


Why these five questions could make or break The Sandman Season 2

Every great fantasy series eventually hits this wall: is it just mythology for mythology’s sake, or does it say something about us? The Sandman Season 2 is at that crossroads. It has the chance to deepen its emotional impact, challenge its characters, and deliver on years of storytelling potential.

But that means it has to stop dodging the tough questions. Fans aren’t just here for cool visuals and brooding monologues. We want a payoff. And if we don’t get it, no amount of dreamy cinematography will save it.


Wake up, or lose us

Season 2 is about to step into sacred ground for fans, and it has every tool to succeed. But the difference between greatness and a gorgeous misfire is whether it faces its narrative truth. These five questions? They’re not optional. They’re essential.

So, to the makers of The Sandman Season 2, don’t get lost in the Dreaming. Stay grounded, stay bold, and give us answers. Because the best kind of dream is the one you remember—and the worst is the one that fades the moment you open your eyes.

Edited by Priscillah Mueni