The night before last, I dreamed about the mansion and estates of a family whose oldest ancestor was preserved in poisonous chemicals a vault at the heart of the house: but every now and then he was lifted out, drained, and shaved of the mold that had gathered on his dead skin, and at these moments he could be asked questions and he would answer.

I would read a story about this. There is definitely potential in the second dream too.

My dreams are always far too vague for story plotting. About the closest I come to something with a normal plot are the ones where I'm running from a tsunami or volcanic eruption (my mind's take on the typical 'running dream' -- I have never had a running dream where I'm running from a person or something vague). Normally I dream in short snatches of plots that jump to something else quickly and nonsensically, and normally I only remember vague impressions the next morning.