A bird created for the sole purpose of serving his master, The Sandman's Matthew the Raven (voiced by Patton Oswalt) takes to his role as fish to water. From refusing to leave his master's (Tom Sturridge) side — oftentimes even in the face of relentless pressure — to encouraging him during times of trial, he proves himself as the loyal sidekick that Dream of The Endless can’t bring himself to accept the need for, at least initially. As the season progresses, however, so does their dynamic, and many a time does Matthew guide his stubborn lord — and lady, the librarian (and his creator) Lucienne (Vivienne Acheampong) — through obstacles left and right, allowing the gradual emergence of the Sandman’s truest form, along with considerable growth on his and Lucienne’s part.
After the death of Dream’s comrade Jessamy in an unsuccessful bid to have the Lord of the Dreaming freed from the bonds of captivity, the latter vows never to let another raven step foot in his life. "Jessamy was the last," he reiterates to the persuading Lucienne — that is until he is surprised, rather unceremoniously, with one having stealthily accompanied him to London — and the mood shift is instantaneous, bordering on the point of being tangible. A show with relatively dark themes of betrayal, connivery, and substantial anger, accumulated for over millennia, suddenly brings on this rather interesting addition of a talking bird daring to quip back at the high and mighty Lord Morpheus.
"Lucienne told me you’d say that." If Matthew could shrug, he probably would, as he proceeds to shoot down one objecting statement after the other falling out of Dream. At last, at a loss of protests and running the risk of sounding petulant, he lets the bird tag along — perhaps one of the most vital turning points in his journey in pursuit of not just his tools, but also himself. Matthew’s constant humorous commentary on the sidelines as the pair face rather unusual social situations, balances out the serious and determined mood created courtesy of his master — but turns out the bird’s two counts of wit and a plethora of charm aren’t all that he’s good for!
From the very first episode, the raven’s acknowledgment of Dream’s empathetic conduct towards Rachel (Eleanor Fanyinka) lays the groundwork for a bond of appreciation, something the Sandman, having just had his kingdom collapsed at his feet, is in dire need of; and one can clearly spot the early remnants of warmth hidden behind Lord Morpheus’ follow-up façade, "Don’t ever spy on me again!"— a rare sight, indeed! — And the beginning of quite a few.
From there on, the foundation of their relationship is only built steadily on, as the duo proceeds towards Hell; wherein Lucifer Morningstar (Gwendoline Christie) challenges Dream, and Matthew displays utmost resistance over the idea of abandoning him, proving to Dream that he is by his side right till the very end — an act of loyalty the lord likely would’ve sought of his runaway subjects of the Dreaming. The teachings from Hell don’t end there, however, and as Lucifer Morningstar stands over an all but defeated Dream, in drops the faithful raven, ready to bat for him — "It’s his move... Your majesty."— and screaming his encouragement right in Dream’s bloodied and battered face. Blue with encouragement ("Dreams don’t fucking die!"), it is here that Matthew, a bird of his word, reawakens Dream’s idea of trust.
The utter certainty with which the raven makes the declaration, "Dream of the Endless would never leave his raven here alone in Hell!" followed by the sheer belief in his Lord Morpheus, has Dream realizing his own potential, with or without the helm; and when he is moved to whisper, he mirrors his comrade’s conviction: "I…am…Hope" — leaving little room for doubt as to the being responsible for instilling back the four-letter word, complete with all its promising connotations, deep within his chest.
"My Gran said Dream always had a raven," Johanna Constantine (Jenna Coleman) proclaims upon the pair’s first meeting with Matthew, and Hell teaches Morpheus just why. Soon after, he allows Matthew to become his eyes and guide — without a single ounce of protest, too! — when the devoted raven volunteers to travel between realms for information. However, Dream is not the only one good old Matthew brings out the best in. Through his encounters with Lucienne, the bird manages to not only decipher but somewhat ease the tension between his creator and his master. That Dream harbors some degree of insecurity over Lucienne’s role in running his kingdom, is quite overtly displayed in the duo’s regular disputes and frequent varying opinions buried under a great deal of mutual respect; and Matthew takes matters under his own wings after a particularly rough encounter leaves either side hurting.
When Lucienne rather hurtfully asks the bird to not keep her in the informational loop in the wake of her demotion to a "mere librarian," instead of aggravating the wise woman, Matthew opts to converse with her, heavily encouraging in his advice to reconcile with Morpheus. Not only does he counsel her to swallow her pride, Lucienne is almost unsure she’s heard him right, before the bird’s split-second affirmation leaves no room for doubt — but also to keep private affairs out of the larger picture of the shared goal between the ruler and his interim: the restoration and well-being of the Dreaming. A thoughtful Lucienne looks on in deep thought, and in this respect, Matthew works to diminish the competition between her and Morpheus by setting the stage himself. As he proves, time and again, his unwavering dedication to his master and his cause, the cynical and apprehensive Morpheus, hardened from prolonged imprisonment, gradually starts to loosen up and allow the elements of faith and reliance back into his life — for the first time in over a century!
As for Matthew’s efforts with Lucienne, they, too, pay off when the lady shows courtesy enough to be addressing her master’s queries, albeit not without the signature taunts, soon after; denoting evident growth on her part. In fact, their very next meeting stands as further testimony to the impact for the better on Morpheus, as well; evident in his apology of sorts to Lucienne, complete with the welcome acceptance — "You were right… I was wrong" — of an error of judgment. Lucienne, of course, remains far above gloating. The idea that two supreme entities in Lucienne and Morpheus manage to even mildly alter their ways under a raven’s influence, speaks volumes about the will and character of the ever-chirpy bird, with his unusual ways and quirky expressions. In more ways than one, then, Matthew the Raven, with his continuous support and healthy doses of tough love, is really a comrade of dreams — and not just to Morpheus, but to Lucienne as well.