The Hum of the Universe (or an auditory hallucination?)

I'm hearing a hum. Sometimes. Or well, a hum. Maybe more like a very low drone that fades in and out, a rumbling perhaps. But let's call it a hum anyway.

It started when we moved out of the city into a small town where the nights were quiet, devoid of screeching tram wheels, cars speeding through streets and sirens left and right.

It — the hum — drove me crazy, especially at night, keeping me awake for nights on end. I'd wander out on the streets in darkness to hunt for the source. Was it the air-conditioner on the nearby library building? Some farming equipment out in the fields? A neighbour's heat pump? But as soon as I went outside, the hum subsided. Instead, I heard the faint rustling of leaves, a distant train or the crunch of my own footsteps in autumn leaves.

I kept logs of wind direction and speed, weather conditions and the hum's intensity, frantically searching for a pattern. In all of two years, none emerged. I became obsessed, I'll admit it. There would be weeks where the hum was absent, but even then I was apprehensive, wary of the day the hum would return. It would always return.

Ear plugs didn't help. If anything, it made the hum louder. Windows open or closed, it didn't matter. Triggered by the absence of the hum when outside, I turned my attention towards the house. Switched off the mains breaker. Was it the ventilation system maybe, or something other running in the house? But even without power, the hum was there.

I then moved to a place far from everyone and everything and at first, the hum was gone! Oh, imagine the rejoicing. Finally, I was free from my nemesis, I could sleep again. But inevitably, it returned.

This is when I started to suspect the hum was not outside. How could it be. I'd hear it even on vacations, in cottages without any technology, far away from roads or other buildings. It was inside me, it was the only explanation. An artefact of my own auditory pathways, a hallucination in the absence of any real sound.

After some research, I think what I have is just ordinary tinnitus. I always thought tinnitus caused a high-pitched ringing, but apparently, it can be anything from that, to wooshing, wheezing, whirring, metallic buzzing or, indeed, rumbling sounds.

Mystery solved. It still annoys me when it's there, but I've been able to accept it more and more as something that isn't caused by some malicious actor out to ruin my night's sleep, but just a natural phenomena in my head.

Still. When I'm in a new place and I first hear the hum, my instinct is to wander around, check if it's louder in one room than another. Or open a window to see if I can hear it coming from outside. How ingrained those patterns are after more than twenty years of obsession.

Maybe give it twenty more years and I will finally be able to find peace with my inner noise, but in the mean time, thank the stars for mynoise.net! I especially enjoy the railroad sound generator to mask the hum at night. There is something soothing about the clickety click of the wheels on the rails and the rattling of carriage doors and before I know it, I'm fast asleep.