past, glass, man and walking on knees

I was in the neighbourhood where I grew up, across the road from my home, walking through the yards of our neighbours. I was the age I am now and I wondered if anyone would recognise me if they saw me. Apart from a secretive kiss in the shadows, against the wall of the house across the road, I cannot recall what I was doing; I am only aware of revisiting my past.
Next, I was in the bathroom of the family home. It was very changed and now seemed to be open to the public. I put my hand up to a broken window and tried to pull out the sharp shards so that no-one would lacerate themselves upon visiting. I extracted shard after shard, but somehow ended up with dozens of tiny splinters of glass in my hand. I then turned my attention to removing the glass splinters, red blood covering my hand and dripping onto the floor. Someone came in to use the bathroom. I asked them to wait while I cleaned it up a little. I washed my hands and scrubbed the sink and the floor where a puddle of blood had pooled.
Next, I was to meet a colleague who was visiting from overseas. He was a tall, rotund man, around my age. We were to go to lunch as part of business proceedings. I stepped into a toilet cubicle for a moment and he followed me in, assuming intimacy. I asked him to leave, which he did. Outside, my sister appeared and I told her about the man, saying that I thought I should cancel the meeting because of his actions and expectations. She was certain that, indeed, I should not proceed any further with him. I went to find him, but I could not see him. I travelled up and down escalators, climbed endless staircases and crossed vast expanses of empty space.
Next, I was walking on my knees through a crowd. I saw a lovely Chow Chow dog adorned with black jewellery and feathers, walking alongside a circus performer. I fell behind the person I was walking with, as she was standing properly upright, walking normally. I was struggling, each step awkward and labouring. I continued on and eventually sat to rest awhile. A young woman approached and I told her that I thought she had a beautiful face. She said she knew, and, in response to my surprise at her candidness, she said she felt that it was important to be honest and not falsely modest. There were other aspects about her person that she would improve upon, but she was perfectly happy with her face. She was at ease with herself.