I was at Norman and Sheila's apartment in New York.  They had another guest, and to my infinite amazement, his first name was Gilbert, and his middle name was the same as my last name.  I didn't get his last name, but the name Russell kept intruding into my mind for some reason.  On top of that, they called him Charlie.  I asked him where his middle name came from, and he started telling about his father being from the north, but I don't remember anymore than that.   We all went outside, along with Wayne and Joyce, to play some game or have some other kind of activity.  Either as part of the activity or because I didn't think much of it, I was lying on the top bunk of bunk beds, in the middle of the street.  It was night, and I have the impression the street was like the one in Paris which runs along the Seine near the hotel where we stayed.   There was a fierce battle going on, though whether real or staged, I'm not sure.  There were massive waves of attacking infantry all around right there on the street, bullets flying everywhere, dozens of men being cut down, screaming with blood-curdling realism.  When it all died down, I decided I had had enough of this "game," so I started to get up and go inside.  I was naked, though, or had on pajamas or underwear at the most, so I hesitated a while longer.  When I did get out from under the cover and get up, there was a woman on the street who wore glasses (I think), was attractive, and wore a green print dress that was loose, filmy, and seductive.  Somehow I propositioned her, perhaps only implicitly by standing before her in a semi-nude state, but she stalked away.    She entered a building, and shortly thereafter a light came on in a room on the first floor, street side.  Through the window I could see either her or another woman come into the room, followed shortly by an older woman with silver hair.  The first woman walked directly to the window, and I thought sure she would lower the blinds, but she didn't, and I'm sure she could see me outside.  I went into the same building, and I met the older woman in the hall.  She was pimping for the younger one.  She wanted to introduce me to the younger one, whom she described as a "secretary."  When the "secretary" came to the door, the older lady asked me, "Isn't she attractive?"  She wasn't very, but she wasn't ugly either.  She wore glasses, had light-colored eyes and vacant features, with short, disheveled dishwater-blonde hair.  She stood in the doorway, silent and expressionless.  One or the other invited me in.  But my wife Bonita was upstairs in Norman and Sheila's apartment, and I felt she was expecting me.  It was Monday.  I told the women I couldn't do it today, but I would be back.  Then I went upstairs.  Later on I came back by that apartment.  There were some other people there-clients, I imagine.  For some reason, I gave the older woman some money, and she was very put out because it wasn't enough.