It was with a certain dull dour melancholy that I anticipated reading this. I'm not sure if I was thinking that this would be the sad end of my Sandman reread or that this would be a dull echo of Sandman at its height, a sincere but pale, as it were, imitation. Holy guacamole. That didn't even last a single page.

To be clear, Gaiman does not let the reader down. This isn't a retread of Sandman at all, this is a whole different type and style of Sandman story. Morpheus is proactive, for a start, in a way he generally isn't in the long run of the series, and we get some sense of why that is. This is an epic, action-packed space opera, a huge conflict that Dream must fight with Dream's own weapons and tactics, and he does and it's a giddy delight. It's a prelude, but it draws back in a score of threads laid out in the main series and refines them into a fast-paced eye-popping wide-screen thrill ride.

Not just that, but the mythical world of the Endless is deepened and expanded - we meet Mum and Dad! We meet versions of Dream from all over the universe! We hear the story of Aliana (but weren't there three gods? Oh Gaiman, you minx!) There's a giant talking Dream cat! A western! A city of stars!

But galloping gondolas it's JH Williams who takes all the prizes, who elevates the whole thing to a level that surpasses almost everything that went before, except that's not fair because it's like none of the other stories that went before. The art flows and pops and bends time and space on the page. It stretches and bends and still manages to tell a completely coherent story. Literally the only problem with the storytelling using this amazingly complex and vivid art is that once or twice the glossy paper stuck and I skipped two pages by accident.

No dour melancholy or doubt can survive contact with these pages, from the giddy delight of long-laid plot seeds effortlessly flowering and clicking into place like some sort of clockwork mechanical growing flower things to the sweeping action and the mind-bending profusion of ideas and the brilliant colours and the teeming inventions of landscape and alien lives and impossible incomprehensible realms and Destiny saying 'what?'

This is an exciting, exhilarating, comic, an utterly new execution of utterly familiar characters and ideas that enriches what has gone before by prefiguring what is to come. Gaiman and Williams have completely outdone themselves, as have the colourists and the letterer and presumably the vast processing intelligences that fill solar systems with their whirring, god-like, editing brains. It's a fantastic high note to end the reread and I'm already anticipating a future return to the story with the Overture at the start to see how it reshapes and alters the story.