All divination systems (Tarot, I Ching, bird entrails, coffee leavings) rely on some sort of randomizing engine. The main idea is that by creating a situation where any one result is infinitesimal in its probability to manifest, then any one result is possible to manifest, including one with meaning to the interpreter. In other words, the universe says, "meh, sure, make that one card sequence appear because it is the same to me whichever one does", allowing for whatever supernatural force to tip the scales and send a message to the reader. Like so, the I Ching, sure, has only 6 lines per symbol. But each of those 6 lines may in turn be in a state of transition so that there are actually 4 possibilities per line: solid, broken, in transition to solid, and in transition to broken. 64 x 64 I think is the way the math works. Not infinitesimal, but close enough, I'd suppose, since we are playing with coin flips whose result depends on many physical factors.
I randomized the order in which I wrote the series. The idea is that by not following a straight line, the work would acquire a new shape depending in what order the poems were read.
Here we see 2 different nightmares: A poor fellow has been suppressing feeling for a certain somebody so much until the secret bursts out of him in a most painful manner. Our other protagonist has to face the horror of a declined credit card.
It would be a mistake to assume any of the 64 poems in anyway autobiographical, though they ARE deeply personal, if that makes any sense. So no, I've never had a secret literally burst out of my abdomen and leave me bloody senseless by the side of a summer road. Credit cards, though, are true nighmare fuel.