The White Cat
This scene opens in an area very much like my back yard, with me standing at the bedroom corner and looking South. I had my air rifle with me and took aim at a squirrel on the ground a few yards away. I don't know if I hit him, but he disappeared.
Now a fairly large, white, long haired cat arrived, a little closer to the house than the squirrel had been. He apparently was wearing a collar, but it wasn't visable under the fur. There seemed to be something attached to it, that looked like a shorth ballpoint pen, partially hidden under the fur.
Unlike my actual house, there was a back door in the middle of the back wall. There was a very narrow concrete porch in front of the door, with a narrow set of steps going up to it, along the wall from the South.
I went up the steps and opened the door. I then tried to get the cat to come up and go into the house. He looked interested, but did not do it. So I went down and tried to catch him. He almost got away, but I got a hold of his right front paw and was able to pull him close enough to get a firm grip on him.
I took him up the steps and into the house, closing the door behind. The interior of this house was nothing like mine, and there were several people there. I called out for them to close all doors so the cat wouldn't get away.
Then I put down the cat. He didn't run, but stood there looking around. Then he looked up at me. I wondered if he was hungry. I tried to think of something I could feed him, but I knew I had no cat food. I thought maybe a can of water packed tuna, which I did have (and in waking life too), would be good, and a bowl of water.
I wondered where I should put the bowls, then thought if he stayed with us, he'd need a litter box too, and where to put that. Clearly somebody would have to go out and buy that, and the sand, and some cat food.
Then I remembered there was a flier that had been distributed around, advertising for a lost cat. I found a copy, and sure enough, it described this cat.
Scene change: I was now out in front of the house in the driveway, which was level to a level street, unlike the driveway of my waking house. I was holding the cat in my arms with his head to my left. The guy who had posted the flier had just arrived and was walking toward me.
As the guy got close, the cat turned his head, looked at him, and hissed very loudly. He then scratched and struggled free from me and took off to my left running as fast as he could.
Obviously, this cat had had some sort of bad experience with this guy and wanted nothing further to do with him.
At this point, I started to slowly wake up, and started rehearsing the dream to set it into waking memory.