So knowing that other people hear the noises too was a comfort. I was able to dismiss them as side effects of having a physical body, like halitosis, and get some sleep. On the other hand there was a part of me that didn't want to dismiss them. There was a part of me, a part made more salient by the lateness of the hour and the exhaustion I was feeling, that wished the noises meant something more. Alien transmissions, a mystic awakening, some sort of supersensitive faculty, whatever. I was sick, exhausted, and looking for meaning in the little noises happening between my ears. There was no meaning there, only re pressurizing fluids.
But I wanted more, and I think that's the reason behind a lot of people's faith. Human beings naturally want to be part of something big. Religious folks want to think that there's this big structure underlying the world and a benign (or not so benign) guy architecting it all. Wiccans...well...they like getting naked and pissing off people in three piece suits. The point is that the urge to believe in the irrational exists within all of us, as does evidence of its existence. Were I a different person I could have interpreted the noises in my head as many different things. The voice of god, a ghost, the aforementioned Aliens, whatever. Were I sleepier I might have actually heard voices within the noises, as I have before on the cusp of sleep. Those voices come from the same place that dreams do and they are equally as meaningful. A voice in your head telling you to repent might be a manifestation of guilt, it is not a Jew who died almost 2,000 years ago and got his grave robbed speaking to you directly.
I had a creepy and somewhat lousy night. Given a different temperament it could have been a profound religious experience. Interesting.