Perelandra

Ransom never says much about his journey to Perelandra, only revealing that his experiences were not too vague for words, but rather too definite for words. Eventually, Ransom becomes conscious of falling rapidly into a warm, golden twilight, then entering a green-tinted darkness and beginning to move upward again. Suddenly he realizes that the casket has dissolved. As he struggles to get his bearings, Ransom soon discovers that he’s been unconsciously swimming, moving through a green, subtropical ocean. Its water is deliciously drinkable. There’s no land in sight.

Riding the waves of this ocean and savoring its muted, green and gold light is a pleasant experience. In fact, this world as a whole seems to be filled with a rich sensory pleasure that, on Earth, Ransom would normally associate with a feeling of guilt. Here, though, there’s no sense of excess. A thick rain begins to fall, but there’s still no land in sight, and Ransom feels a little frightened for the first time.

As the rain and waves subside, Ransom, exhausted, notices something like a floating island and swims toward it. Grabbing a trailing vine, he manages to pull himself onto its surface and finds, to his relief, that it supports him. After resting awhile on the mattress-like surface, Ransom explores the strange floating country, its contours constantly changing with the waves. He spends a couple of hours teaching himself to balance and walk, falling often.

Eventually Ransom reaches a kind of forest, whose rich scent prompts an almost enjoyable hunger and thirst, making breathing itself a wondrous experience. At one point, he plucks and accidently punctures a balloon-like yellow fruit. When he samples its juice, he soon empties it, finding a new depth of pleasure in the indescribable taste. He considers drinking another, but he finds there’s no need—it would be “like asking to hear the same symphony twice in a day.” As Perelandra settles into an impenetrable darkness, Ransom falls into a comfortable sleep.