I'm not at all sure why Hallowe'en means so much to me. It's not as though we got to go trick-or-treating all that much as kids; we were a quarter mile from the nearest neighbours, and the most efficient trip we could muster would be seven miles walking for about ten houses. Not fun in late autumn in Ireland, in the dark.
Perhaps it's because the celebration is so unashamedly pagan, unadopted by the churches anywhere, and retaining all its old meaning. They fey are moving, and it's up to us to confuse them with masks and fires and strange decorations, so that they won't stay and hassle us. The spirits of the dead come back, and we make them welcome. It's a night when dark forces have power, and so we try to confuse them too, disguising ourselves as them so they don't know who to hit. And we take advantage of that power ourselves for foretellings and fortunes.