Phenomena doesn’t seem to need explanation, so much as imagination, and un-begged questions.
It isn’t so much the danger pink of the elephant that is scary. The creepy part is being the only one to acknowledge it, and to feel alone, like the only one who wonders of it, and then, sometimes wondering about yourself.
Then, it matters if any un-questioners wonder. Life begs the mystery, the unimaginable, the unthinkable to be expected. It just seems so, or why else would we, as a race, be so fascinated with the unexplainable, the magic, the light, and the dark, even if we allow fiction to be its main explorer.
Perhaps it’s all the enigmatic nature of the game of Nature.
Mystery keeps things fun.