Not all non-canon DC shows are Elseworlds: Where The Sandman fits in James Gunn’s new multiverse plan

Scene from The Sandman | Image via: Netflix
Scene from The Sandman | Image via: Netflix

The Sandman drifts between worlds, slipping through cracks that no one else sees. While the new DC Universe under James Gunn takes shape with careful labels and solid borders, the Dream's tale hovers above it all, like a moonlit reflection on a lake no one dares to touch. Elseworlds, the term chosen to shelter stories beyond the main DC line, gathers projects that still want to flirt with the wider multiverse. Yet The Sandman does not belong to this garden of wandering tales.

Its core is still an unspoiled refuge, a realm where celestial entities exchange mysteries and people arise pondering what is genuinely important. The Netflix adaptation, based on Neil Gaiman’s mythical framework, stands apart and welcomes that isolation.

While Batman broods under Gotham’s neon rain and Joker plots symphonies of chaos, Morpheus closes his pale hand around the quiet pulse of dreams, away from every canon. The series then stands apart, not as a rebellious child but as an ancient echo, too deep to confine and too luminous to label.

What Elseworlds really means in James Gunn’s DC vision

Elseworlds once lived only in the pages of DC Comics, offering alternate destinies where Superman landed in Soviet Russia or Batman hunted Jack the Ripper. The label promised freedom from the rigid spine of continuity, a space to imagine wilder possibilities. Under James Gunn, Elseworlds embarks on a new cinematic and television phase, aimed at encompassing every narrative that opts to exist outside the cohesive DC Universe.

Films such as The Batman directed by Matt Reeves and Joker helmed by Todd Phillips proudly showcase the Elseworlds label. These tales remain sufficiently connected to the core DC mythology to feel recognizable while still navigating their own paths. Elseworlds honors this dance along the boundaries of canon, encouraging creators to explore the psychology of heroes without concern for crossover guides or interconnected timelines.

As Gunn crafts a fresh primary universe with titles such as Superman (2025) and Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow, Elseworlds serves as the guiding light for narratives that resist conforming to the core plot. It is a formal acceptance of diversity, an indication that DC no longer shies away from fragmented stories but embraces them as fertile grounds for imaginative risk.

Morpheus and Death | Image via: Netflix
Morpheus and Death | Image via: Netflix

The Sandman’s unique position: an untouchable dream

The Sandman began as a radical bloom in the DC garden, published under Vertigo, a space carved for stories too strange and too delicate to fit among capes and capers. Neil Gaiman crafted Morpheus not as a hero but as a cosmic certainty, a natural phenomenon interlaced with myth, folklore, and the subtle fear that arrives with the morning light.

The Netflix adaptation preserved this essence, removing the direct DC connections that used to link Dream with characters such as John Constantine and the residents of Arkham Asylum. This intentional separation enabled the series to flourish as its own vibrant myth, free from the constraints of a connected universe. Gaiman frequently refers to his creation as a tale about tales, reflecting on transformation, grief, and the fundamental essence of human longing.

By refusing to stand alongside Elseworlds or join the DCU, The Sandman becomes a pure vessel for its themes. It is not a sandbox for crossovers but a temple for quiet metamorphosis, echoing the shifting dreams we leave on our pillows each morning.

Sandman | Image via: Netflix
Sandman | Image via: Netflix

Not all non-canon is Elseworlds: Why The Sandman stands apart

It feels easy to assume that any story outside the official DCU belongs to Elseworlds, as if the label could gather every stray star under its constellation. Yet The Sandman resists this net. James Gunn never included it in his Elseworlds lineup, nor did Neil Gaiman seek that shelter.

While projects like The Batman and Joker still flirt with Gotham’s shadows and its echoes, The Sandman drifts far beyond, wrapped in its own eternal hush. There is no invitation for crossover, no teasing glance at other universes, only the deep hum of its own narrative gravity.

This choice frees it from the weight of expectation that Elseworlds projects sometimes carry. Elseworlds remains a playground for reinterpretations and twisted reflections of familiar heroes, but The Sandman speaks in a language that cannot be recast as a variant or a rogue timeline. It is a singular hymn to the vastness of dream, untouched by the multiverse’s endless mirrors.

The Sandman and the freedom of true solitude

The Sandman glows brightest in its solitude. Freed from the burden of continuity, it becomes a cathedral of quiet revolutions, a space where cosmic siblings feud over human hearts and a raven learns the weight of mercy.

This solitude is not exile but elevation. Without the obligation to link arms with caped crusaders or cosmic wars, the series can explore the delicate fractures in our minds, the fragile architecture of memory, and the invisible borders between love and surrender.

By standing apart, The Sandman embodies the purest form of creative freedom. It can be intimate and cosmic in the same breath, allow grief to shimmer like stardust, and grant its characters an intimacy rarely found in franchise-driven storytelling. In this sanctuary, each whisper carries the gravity of a thousand worlds, yet never needs to echo beyond its own sacred hall.

Bonus: Echoes from the DC universe in The Sandman comics

Before The Sandman stepped into its own ethereal territory, Neil Gaiman’s original comics were deeply entangled with the larger DC universe. These appearances built unexpected bridges between myth and superhero lore, creating a strange, dreamlike map across the company’s multiverse.

One of the most notable connections was John Constantine. Dream sought Constantine’s help to retrieve his stolen tools, weaving Morpheus into the darker, street-level magic corners of DC. Etrigan the Demon also stepped into the early issues, his rhyming riddles echoing through the underworld that Dream visited.

The series included references to Arkham Asylum, home to Batman’s most tormented villains. In the first volume, Dream’s ruby ends up there, briefly connecting his fate with Gotham’s shadows. Characters like Martian Manhunter and Mister Miracle appeared in brief cameos, witnessing Dream’s return after his long imprisonment.

Even Doctor Destiny (John Dee), a classic Justice League villain, played a central role. Using Dream’s ruby, he twisted reality in a nightmarish diner sequence that remains one of the most haunting moments in the entire run.

These early echoes slowly faded as The Sandman matured into its own mythic shape. Over time, Gaiman pushed Dream’s universe away from superhero cameos, turning the series into an intimate cosmology focused on stories, dreams, and the endless echoes of human longing.

Johanna Constantine and Morpheus | Image via: Netflix
Johanna Constantine and Morpheus | Image via: Netflix

Beyond labels: where The Sandman dreams next

The Sandman approaches its final act on Netflix, holding close the integrity that has defined it since its first page. As the series drifts toward its end, it offers no promises of crossovers or franchise expansions, only the soft promise of one last dream unfolding.

This refusal to wear the Elseworlds badge is not a rejection but a quiet assertion of identity. The Sandman exists as a realm beyond maps, a moonlit garden where stories breathe without needing to justify their place in a larger constellation.

Its legacy may live on in echoes, in the way readers and viewers carry Dream’s lessons about hope, regret, and the fragile power of desire. But the series itself stands complete, a monument to the idea that not every narrative craves connection or validation.

In this solitude, The Sandman remains radiant. It whispers that some dreams deserve to stay unchained, blooming forever at the edge of sleep, too luminous to label and too alive to end.

Edited by Beatrix Kondo